yo  o 

*"n      4    t  * 

34'3 


FROM 


DAWN  TO  DAYLIGHT; 


OR, 


Sire  Simnle  Stejj  0f  5  Astern  10m*. 


BY  A  MINISTER'S   WIFE. 


NEW    YORK: 
DERBY  &  JACKSON,  119  NASSAU  STREET. 

1859. 


EJTTBH.KD  atco/di'.,g  ti/  Act  of  Co.igress,  In  tje  jv.r  .C5«,  oy 
DERBY     A     JACKSON, 

the  Clerk's  Office  of  the  District  Court  of  the  United  St-.tea  for  the  Sonthei  n  Dist  riot  of  \i  .v  Yurk 


W.  H.  TI.NSON,  Stereotyper  Gao.  RUSSELL  &  Co.,  Printers. 


PS 


P  E  E  F  A  0  E  . 


SOME  years  since,  I  prepared  the  following  sketch  of 
the  life  of  a  dear  friend,  with  whose  history  I  had  been 
familiar.  At  the  time,  my  only  object  was  to  shorten 
some  of  the  lonely  hours  of  a  tedious  convalescence,  and  to 
gratify  and  amuse  my  children.  Nothing  could  have  been 
further  from  my  thoughts,  than  trusting  myself  to  the  ten 
der  mercies  of  public  opinion.  But  months  after,  a  clergy 
man's  wife,  visiting  in  the  family,  chanced  to  read  the 
manuscript,  and  felt  that,  if  published,  it  might  do  good  by 
leading  laymen  to  perceive  how  easily,  by  kindness,  con- 
siderateness  and  prompt  payment,  they  could  strengthen 
their  Pastor's  hands,  or,  on  the  contrary,  paralyze  all  his 
efforts  and  energy,  by  negligence,  thoughtlessness  and 
selfishness. 

"  On  that  hint  I  spake."  The  main  story,  or  rather 
narrative,  is  literally  true.  Names  and  dates  have  been 
changed  for  obvious  reasons,  and  in  some  few  instances,  I 

M102444 


V  PREFACE. 

have  resorted  to  fiction,  by  giving  that  which  a  people 
should  do,  instead  of  what  they  did  or  did  not  do.  There 
fore,  should  these  pages  meet  their  eyes  and  a  "  still 
small  voice  "  point  them  to  the  original,  of  some  parts  of 
this  picture,  that  same  voice  will  acquit  both  their  old 
friends,  and  also  the  narrator,  of  any  disposition  to  exag 
gerate,  "  or  set  down  aught  in  malice." 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER  I. 

MM 

MART  AND  HEE  MOTHER, ,9 

CHAPTER  II. 

HILL  FARM, 17 

CHAPTER  III. 

LEAVING  HOME, 32 

CHAPTER  IV. 

THE  BEIDAL  TEIP, 43 

CHAPTER  V. 

PREPARING   A   HOME, 66 

CHAPTER  VI. 

AT  HOME, 84 

CHAPTER  VII. 
MBS.  REED'S  HISTORY,     .....  .99 


VI  CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER   VIII. 

PAGE 
A  WELCOME    GUEST,  .  .  .  .  ...      118 

CHAPTER  IX. 

NOETON, '   •    .       .  .  .      134 

CHAPTER  X. 

SICKNESS,  .........      153 

CHAPTER  XI. 

ADVICE    GIVING, 163 

CHAPTER  XII. 
A  CHAPTEE  ox  "HELP," 184 

CHAPTER  XIII. 

THE   DONATION   PAETT, 202 

CHAPTER  XIV. 

A   WELCOME   VISIT   AND   A   SAD   PABTIXG,  .  .  .      230 

CHAPTER  XV. 

A  JOUENEY,     .  ....  ...  .  .      245 

CHAPTER  XVI. 

THE   VISIT   AND   EETUEN,  .  .  .  .  .  ,268 

CHAPTER  XVII. 

THE  TEUE   SPHEKE   OF   WOMAN,          ...  .      287 


CONTENTS.  Vll 

CHAPTER  XVIII. 

PAG> 
DEATH   OF   LITTLE   HARRY, 801 

CHAPTER  XIX. 

CONCLUSION, .817 


FROM  DAWN  TO  DAYLIGHT. 


CIIAPTEE   I. 

MARY   AND    HER   MOTHER. 

THE  room  is  bright  and  cheerful,  marked  by  neat 
ness  and  comfort,  rather  than  luxury  or  elegance. 
At  a  window,  looking  southward,  over  a  magnifi 
cent  lawn,  and  broad  green  meadows,  sits  a  mid 
dle-aged  matron,  with  whose  dark  brown  hair, 
scarcely  yet  touched  with  silver,  and  delicately 
tinted  cheek  and  lip,  time  has  dealt  so  kindly,  that 
many  a  city  belle,  faded  and  worn  by  the  dissipa 
tion  of  a  life  of  pleasure,  would  give  half  the 
jewels  which  glitter  on  her  form,  to  secure  but  a 
small  portion  of  her  gentle  beauty. 

Her  sewing  lies  unnoticed  in  her  lap,  as  her  eye 

wanders  fondly  over  the  peaceful  scene  before  her, 

!*  9 


LO  .  >  ,       FEQM  DAWN   TO   DAYLIGHT. 


.  yet  all  it's  quiet  loveliness  has  not  power  to 
.tli$  lines;  qf  (ie,ep;,  ar-.d  somewhat  troubled 
thought  from  her  brow. 

Spring  will  in  a  few  days  yield  to  brighter  sum 
mer.  The  noble  trees,  scattered  over  the  grounds, 
whose  broad  branches  give  promise  of  grateful 
shelter  from  summer  sun  or  shower,  are  already 
covered  wTith  the  half  developed  leaves  of  delicate 
green,  and  tiny  spots  of  white,  among  the  cherry 
and  pear  trees,  are  peering,  roguishly,  out  from  their 
winter  hiding-places  —  sure  token  that  in  a  few 
days  the  "  Hill  Farm  "  will  be  spangled  with  blos 
soms,  and  redolent  with  perfumery  of  nature's  own 
distilling.  The  meadow  is  sparkling  with  the  yel 
low  cowslip  and  dandelion,  and  "the  hale  young 
farmer  goes  whistling  at  his  plough,"  on  the  hill 
side  beyond. 

Surely,  there  can  be  nothing  here  to  encourage 
sorrow  or  sadness. 

Rising  from  her  seat,  as  if  her  reverie  had 
at  length  settled  some  uncertainty  in  her  own 
mind,  she  turns  with  a  sigh  toward  a  young  girl  — 
evidently  an  invalid  —  who  is  seated  near  her,  at 
the  east  window,  in  a  large,  old-fashioned  easy 
chair.  Yery  beautiful  to  that  fond  mother's  eye,  is 


THE   MOTH  Eli's    ANXIETY.  11 

the  delicate  being  before  her.  She,  too,  is  gazing 
upon  a  landscape,  even  more  enchanting  than  that 
from  which  her  mother  has  just  turned. 

The  broad  lake,  transformed  into  a  sea  of  liquid 
gold,  by  the  morning  sun — the  mighty  hills,  flash 
ing  back  a  glory  "borrowed  from  the  same  source, 
and  all  the  wealth  of  wood,  and  field,  and  meadow 
are  before  her :  then  why  should  so  deep  a  shadow 
rest  upon  so  young  a  face,  or  tear  after  tear  fall 
unheeded?  But  the  mother's  watchful  eye  is 
anxiously  trying  to  read  her  thoughts,  and  not  well 
pleased  writh  the  result  of  her  scrutiny,  she  steps 
softly  to  her  daughter's  side,  and  putting  back  the 
rich  auburn  curls  which  have  fallen  over  her  brow, 
said — 

"  Mary,  my  dear  child,  why  so  sad  to-day  ? 
You  are  fast  regaining  health  and  strength  ;  and 
your  father  says  he  shall  endeavor  to  give  you  a 
ride  this  afternoon.  The  season  is  so  favorable; 
everything  looks  bright  and  hopeful.  Indeed,  I 
cannot  see  my  daughter's  spirits  drooping  now, 
when  her  heart  should  be  overflowing  with  grati 
tude,  for  the  mercies  of  the  past  few  weeks." 

"  Dear  mother,  I  will  try  to  overcome  this  de 
spondency.  I  was  looking  back  upon  the  past,  and 


12  FROM   DAWN   TO   DAYLIGHT. 

trembling  for  the  future ;  but  at  the  same  time,  1 
trust,  not  forgetful  of  the  unmerited  blessings  of 
the  present." 

"  Leave  the  future  with  God,  my  child,  and  try 
to  let  the  past  be  i  as  a  dream  when  one  awaketh ;' 
at  least,  that  part  of  it  which  must,  necessarily, 
give  you  pain  to  remember.  It  can  do  you  no 
good  to  recall  it,  and  will,  most  assuredly,  retard 
your  recovery.  For  myself,  I  feel  too  joyous,  too 
grateful,  that  you  are  spared  to  us,  to  countenance 
any  indulgence  in  unprofitable  reminiscences.  It 
has  given  me  much  pain,  to  see  you  so  little  cheerful. 
Think  of  those  around  us,  whose  homes  have  been 
made  utterly  desolate  by  this  terrible  disease,  while 
the  Lord  '  has  not  suffered  His  destroying  angel  to 
come  into  our  house  to  smite  us.'  Though  scat 
tered,  we  are  still  an  unbroken  band.  Oh!  how 
kindly  has  our  God  dealt  with  us  ?" 

"  I  do,  indeed,  bear  this  in  grateful  remembrance, 
and  bless  God  with  all  my  powers,  who  has  so 
mercifully  given  my  life  to  your  prayers.  And 
oh  !  how  thankful  am  I,  dear  mother,  that  you  are 
pow  relieved  from  watching  and  anxiety,  and  can 
begin  to  rest.  It  has  been  the  hardest  part  of  my 
illness,  to  see  you  so  exhausted  and  distressed. 


TROUBLES   QUIETED.  13 

But" and  again  the  eyes  of  the  young  girl 

filled  with  tears,  and  she  hesitated. 

"  But  what,  my  dear  child  ?  I  must  know  what 
it  is  that  troubles  you,  Mary." 

"  Oh,  mother  !  I  almost  dread  to  get  about 
again.  If  father  would  only  love  George ;  if  he 
could  be  made  to  realize  how  little  true  happiness 
depends  on  wealth,  or  the  position  which  riches 
are  supposed  to  give  !  I  shrink  from  the  ride  with 
him  to-day ;  I  tremble  every  time  I  see  him  alone, 
lest  he  should  renew  all  the  old  sorrows,  and  insist 
upon  my  yielding  to  his  wishes  in  regard  to  Mr. 
Dalton  ;  and  that,  mother,  I  can  never,  never 
do." 

"Be  calm,  my  daughter,  and  listen.  I  have  good 
news  for  you,  which  I  supposed  you  were  too  weak 
to  bear  just  yet.  Had  I  thought  of  your  very  natu 
ral  anxiety,  however,  I  should  not  have  delayed 
this  information  till  now.  You  need  fear  no  further 
annoyance,  on  this  dreaded  subject.  You  have 
nothing  now  to  do  but  get  well  as  fast  as  possible  • 
and  I,  meanwhile,  must  school  myself  to  feel  ready 
to  give  you  to  George  next  fall.  We  learned  last 
night  that  Dalton  was  married  a  week  since  to  a 
lady  in  Boston.  But,  my  poor  child,  you  must  be 


Z4  FRUM    DAWN    TO    DAYLIGHT. 

calm  ;"  for  Mary,  while  listening  to  lier  mother's 
words,  had  been  greatly  agitated,  and  now  burst 
Into  uncontrollable  weeping. 

"Bear  with  me  a  few  moments,  dear  mother. 
These  foolish  tears  will  do  me  no  harm." 

Mary,  though  young,  had  acquired  self-control 
through  many  a  sharp  lesson,  and  was  soon  able  to 
subdue  the  excitement  which  her  mother's  words 
had  occasioned. 

"  Does  father  know  of  this  ?"  she  said,  at  length. 

"  Oh,  yes.  He  heard  the  rumor  some  days  since, 
but  gave  it  no  credence  till  last  evening,  when  he 
met  a  friend  of  Mr.  Dalton's  at  i  Spring's  Store,' 
who  was  one  of  the  attendants  on  the  occasion ; 
and,  with  the  evident  intention  of  irritating  your 
father,  most  officiously  narrated  all  the  circum 
stances,  in  as  public  a  manner  as  possible." 

"  Please  tell  me  how  father  received  it." 

"I  trust  he  had  too  much  self-respect  to  manifest 
any  annoyance,  or  receive  it  otherwise  than  with 
indifference,  before  so  many  listeners;  but,  you 
know,  he  had  quite  set  his  heart  on  this  thing, 
though  during  your  illness  he  seemed  to  drop  the 
matter  forever,  and  leave  you  to  choose  for  your 
self.  Yet,  of  course,  he  was  somewhat  excited  las' 


MOTJKNING  TURNED    TO   MINSTEELST.  15 

night.  I  think,  however,  as  much  by  the  insulting 
way  in  which  the  intelligence  was  given,  and  the 
slight  put  upon  you — as  it  was  evidently  intended 
he  should  consider  it — as  by  any  great  disappoint 
ment  in  losing  Dalton ;  for,  from  some  things  that 
have,  accidentally,  come  to  my  knowledge,  I  fancy 
the  purse-proud  fellow,  in  his  two  last  interviews, 
manifested  an  arrogance  and  disrespect  which  your 
father  would  not  have  tolerated,  if  again  repeated. 
These  last  few  weeks  have,  to  be  sure,  enabled  him 
to  think  more  reasonably  than  he  could  do  while 
constantly  excited  by  that  man.  Yet,  I  greatly 
mistake  if  Dalton's  overbearing  temper  had  not  in 
a  short  time  so  disgusted  him,  that  you  would 
have  been  left  free,  even  if  you  had  not  been 
ill." 

""Well,  mother,  this  intelligence  accounts  for 
the  sharp  tone  in  which  father  spoke  to  me  this 
morning.  I  feared  a  renewal  of  everything  that 
has  combined  to  make  my  life  miserable  the  past 
year,  and  have  been  heart-sick  ever  since." 

"  But  now,  my  child,  thank  God,  who  has 
<  turned  your  mourning  into  minstrelsy,'  and  ever 
try  to  bear  in  mind  that  your  dear  father's  wish 
was  to  bring  about  that  which  he  thought  would 


FROM   DAWN    TO   DAYLIGHT. 

really  make  you  happy  in  the  end ;  and  if  age  and 
infirmity  may  have  caused  him  to  appear  self- 
willed,  and  to  judge  incorrectly,  you  must  forget 
it,  and  think  of  him  ever  with  confidence  and  love. 

"I  shall  leave  you  now,  darling,  to  rest  till 
dinner,  that  you  may  have  strength  and  spirits  for 
your  afternoon  ride." 

"  Never  fear  but  I  shall,  dearest  mother.  It  was 
the  anxiety  I  have  felt  on  this  subject  that  has 
retarded  my  recovery,  but  now  I  feel  as  light- 
hearted  and  cheerful  as  a  bird." 


CHAP  TEE   II. 

HILL   FABM. 

WHILE  the  now  happy  Mary  is  resting  from  the 
excitement  of  the  foregoing  conversation,  we  will 
improve  the  opportunity  to  give  such  explanation 
as  may  be  needed  to  interpret  the  introductory 
chapter,  and  also  to  make  our  readers  acquainted 
with  the  worthy  inmates  of  "  Hill  Farm." 

Dr.  John  Leighton  was  the  youngest  son  of  a 
kind,  hard  working,  but  quite  uneducated  farmer, 
in  one  of  the  smallest  and  most  obscure  towns  in 
good  old  Massachusetts.  He  was  among  the  first 
settlers  of  the  place,  and  as  his  family  rapidly 
multiplied  around  him,  it  was  no  easy  task  to  make 
his  large,  but  sterile  farm  meet  all  their  necessities, 
and  yet  keep  free  from  debt — DEBT  !  "No  ghost  or 
goblin,  conjured  up  in  olden  times  by  designing 
priests,  to  frighten  poor  ignorant  mortals  into  abject 
compliance  with  their  wickedness,  ever  held  more 
powerful  dominion  over  any  human  being,  than 

IT 


18  FIIOM   DAWN    TO   DAYLIGHT. 

that  word  possessed  over  Moses  Leighton.  Brave, 
as  simple  hearted,  it  was  all  on  earth  that  he 
feared.  It  conveyed  to  his  mind  the  only  distinct 
idea  of  what  "  the  unpardonable  sin  "  must  mean  ; 
at  any  rate,  it  was  so  great  a  wrong  "  that  he  would 
never  have  forgiven  himself  if  guilty  of  it."  ~No 
labor  was  too  hard,  no  deprivation  worth  a  thought, 
so  long  as  he  could  with  honest  pride,  lay  his  hand 
upon  his  heart  and  say,  "  I  owe  no  man  a  penny." 
When,  therefore,  John  expressed  a  wish  to  pre 
pare  for  the  practice  of  medicine,  his  father  was 
utterly  confounded.  Where  was  the  money  to 
come  from?  "Farming,  shoemaking,  and  black 
smith  work,  had  done  well  enough  for  himself  and 
his  elder  boys — preaching  was  all  right,  if  any  one 
had  a  '  gift '  that  way — but  lawyers  were  always 
meddling  with  other  people's  quarrels,  and  he  really 
must  think  that  doctors  put  more  into  the  grave 
yard,  than  they  ever  kept  out.  "Why  couldn't 
Johnny  be  contented  to  do  like  the  rest  of  the 
family,  and  not  wish  to  set  himself  above  them  ?" 

At  length,  after  many  discussions,  it  was  settled 
in  family  council,  that  "  arter  all,  Johnny  never 
did  love  to  work,  and  doctoring,  was,  may  be,  'bout 
all  he'd  ever  be  good  for." 


THE   YOUNG   PHYSICIAN.  19 

And  thereupon  Jolm  Leigliton  left  home,  and 
struggled  through  difficulties  and  trials  that  would 
have  disheartened  any  but  a  sturdy  son  of  New 
England,  until  he  had  secured  a  sufficient  educa 
tion  for  the  profession  he  had  chosen. 

A  year's  trial  convinced  the  staid  people  of  the 
little  village  where  he  at  first  established  himself, 
and  who,  it  must  be  confessed,  had  been  rather  dis 
pleased  with  the  tall,  pale  young  doctor's  some 
what  foppish  air,  that  he  had,  as  they  expressed  it, 
"  something  to  him." 

In  seven  years  he  stood  higher  in  his  profession 
than  any  of  the  neighboring  physicians,  and  began 
to  feel  that  the  place  was  too  strait  for  him. 

In  the  early  part  of  his  public  life  he  had  mar 
ried  a  woman  several  years  younger  than  himself, 
of  a  most  lovely  disposition,  and  exalted  char 
acter.  Her  whole  life  was  devoted  to  the  service 
of  her  husband  and  children,  and  every  opportu 
nity  which  enabled  her  to  aid  in  carrying  out  his 
plans,  was  a  great  addition  to  her  happiness. 
When,  therefore,  he  one  day  informed  her  of  an 
unexpected  opening  for  his  business,  in  a  large  and 
nourishing  town  near  by,  and  that  at  the  same 
time  he  had  been  urged  to  buy  the  well  known 


20  FROM   DAWN   TO   DAYLIGHT 

Hill  Farm,  in  that  place,  lie  found  her,  as  usual, 
ready  to  cooperate,  yet  fully  aware  of  the  addi 
tional  labor  and  responsibility  which  must,  of 
necessity,  come  upon  herself.  There  was  but  one 
point  that  inclined  them  to  hesitate  at  all.  Both 
had  been  educated  to  feel  the  greatest  reluctance  to 
take  any  step  that  might  involve  them  in  pecuniary 
obligations. 

If  Dr.  Leighton  made  the  contemplated  change, 
he  would  be  obliged,  at  once,  to  assume  a  debt  of 
several  thousands,  and,  as  in  those  primitive  days, 
a  fortune  was  not  made  in  a  day — nor  lost  as  ra 
pidly — it  would  be  a  work  of  time,  and  the  most 
rigid  economy  to  free  themselves  from  the  burden, 
and  rejoice  once  more  in  true  independence.  With 
courageous  hearts,  however,  they  calmly  judged 
themselves,  and  both  felt  that  they  were  capable 
of  making  the  effort — a  blooming  daughter  and 
three  fine  sons,  being,  in  their  estimation,  incentives 
sufficient  for  any  exertion. 

They  argued  wisely,  that  a  farm  was  the  best 
place  to  give  strength  and  health  to  their  sons,  and 
establish  in  them  such  habits  of  industry  and  per 
severance,  as  were  most  likely  to  insure  their  be 
coming  men  of  the  right  stamp,  whatever  vocation 


THE   HAPPY   HOME.  21 

they  might  choose,  when  old  enough  to  judge  for 
themselves,  and  that  the  same  habits  would  secure 
true  worth  to  their  beloved  daughter. 

The  change  was  made.  Hill  Farm  became 
the  happy  home  of  Dr.  Leighton  and  his  family. 
Twenty  years  passed  swiftly  by.  Ten  "  brave  lads 
and  merry  lassies  "  had  made  the  old  halls  vocal 
with  their  glee.  Of  course  it  could  not  be  ex 
pected  that  so  long  a  period  would  bring  only  un 
mixed  happiness ;  for  Hill  Farm  was  of  the 
earth.  The  "  trail  of  the  serpent "  was  visible 
even  here.  In  the  loved  circle,  sin,  and  conse 
quently  sorrow,  had  often  sought  and  found  a  tem 
porary  shelter ;  and  many  a  hard  battle  had  been 
fought,  before  the  foe,  once  received,  could  be  ex 
pelled.  Yet  in  all  these  years,  Death's  dark  shadow 
had  never  fallen  on  their  home  ;  and  though  their 
loved  ones  were  beginning  to  disperse,  in  various 
ways,  they  could  still  feel  that  theirs  was  an  un 
broken  family. 

Four  of  the  children,  happy,  and  highly 
respected,  wrere  settled  near  the  old  homestead. 

Three  sons,  having  by  patient  economy  toiled 
through  a  college  education,  had  entered  the  min 
istry,  and  now  stood  before  the  world  noble-hearted, 


22  FROM   DAWN    TO   DAYLIGHT. 

zealous  champions  for  the  truth.  Mary  and  her 
two  youngest  brothers  were  all  that  remained  with 
their  parents. 

The  farm  was  paid  for.  It  had  been  no  light 
task  to  bring  forward  so  large  a  family,  and  yet 
cancel  all  liabilities ;  but  it  had  been  bravely  met ; 
father,  mother,  sons  and  daughters,  each  in  their 
sphere,  lending  a  helping  hand,  and  cheerfully  and 
lovingly,  bearing  one  another's  burdens.  The 
daughters  were  energetic  and  capable,  the  sons 
ready  to  meet  life's  changes  with  cheerful  self- 
reliance  and  Christian  courage,  and  the  character 
of  the  judicious  mother,  sincerely  loved  by  friends 
and  neighbors,  and  well-nigh  idolized  by  her 
family,  shone  all  the  brighter  for  every  trial. 

But  it  would  have  been  marvellous  had  all  come 
from  the  contest  unscathed.  Unfortunately,  Dr. 
Leighton,  in  this  long  and  severe  struggle  for  inde 
pendence  and  competence,  had  learned  to  place 
too  high  an  estimate  on  wealth;  and,  just  when 
freed  from  pecuniary  embarrassments,  his  wife  and 
children  began  to  feel  that  they  might  take  life  a 
little  easier,  and  enjoy  the  fruits  of  their  mutual 
industry ;  he  became  even  more  close  and  calcu 
lating,  and  what,  in  past  days,  had  been  only  neces- 


23 

sary  economy,  was  now,  in  old  age,  fast  tending 
toward  a  morbid  penuriousness. 

He  was  by  nature,  though  passionate  and  some 
what  exacting,  a  large-hearted  and  affectionate 
man.  Mrs.  Leighton's  gentle  firmness  and  quiet 
management  had  warded  off  many  a  storm,  which, 
but  for  her,  would  have  shipwrecked  some  of  her 
children,  and  perhaps  destroyed  the  happiness  of 
others.  As  age  and  over-exertion  began  to  affect 
the  doctor's  powerful  frame  and  excellent  constitu 
tion,  his  temper  was  less  under  control,  and  this, 
joined  to  his  increasing  love  of  wealth,  threatened 
to  darken  the  life  of  his  noble  partner  and  the 
younger  children. 

A  year  before  our  history  commences,  Mary 
became  acquainted,  through  one  of  her  brothers, 
with  a  young  gentleman  of  great  worth  and  supe 
rior  talents.  Thrown  often  into  each  other's 
society,  as  was  but  natural,  the  acquaintance  soon 
ripened  into  strong  attachment ;  and  when  George 
Herbert,  with  manly  frankness,  made  known  his 
wishes  to  her  parents,  Mrs.  Leighton  gave  a  cordial 
approval,  and  the  doctor  had  too  great  a  respect 
for  talent  and  intellectual  superiority,  to  withhold 
his  consent,  though,  truth  to  tell,  it  was  not  given 


24:  FROM   DAWN    TO   DAYLIGHT. 

as  cheerfully  as  could  have  been  wished.  If  the 
engagement  might  have  been  consummated  in  the 
course  of  a  few  months,  he  would  have  felt  no 
hesitation.  There  was  no  other  claimant  for  his 
daughter's  hand  at  the  time,  and  George,  by  his  re 
spectful  attention,  had  secured  a  strong  hold  on  Dr. 
Leighton's  affections.  But  the  young  man  had  con 
secrated  himself  to  the  work  of  the  ministry,  and 
some  years  must  elapse  before  he  could  feel  prepared 
to  enter  upon  the  labors  of  that  profession.  Both 
Mary  and  himself  were  young — too  young  to  think 
of  immediate  marriage,  even  had  he  been  all  pre 
pared,  and  they  had  too  much  confidence  in  eacli 
other's  truth,  to  apprehend  any  danger  from  a 
protracted  engagement. 

The  old  gentleman,  however,  sawT  "  lions  in  the 
way  "  on  every  side. 

Something  disastrous  was  sure  to  happen. 
"  Long  engagements  never  did  turn  out  well,"  and 
this  would  only  be  the  repetition  of  the  old  story  : 
a  false  lover  and  broken-hearted  damsel,  long  before 
Herbert's  education  was  completed. 

But  the  only  lion  that  could  alarm  Mrs.  Leigh- 
ton  or  her  daughter,  intruded  all  too  soon  under 
the  guise  of  a  large  fortune,  encumbered  with  a 


ANOTHER   OFFEK.  25 

self-conceited  young  man,  utterly  devoid  of  deli 
cacy,  and  nothing  doubting  but  that  half  a  million 
could  buy  the  fairest  lady  in  the  land.  The  slight 
obstacle  of  a  prior  engagement — what  was  that, 
before  such  a  pile  of  gold? 

Mrs.  Leighton  and  the  brothers  and  sisters  left  no 
honorable  means  untried  to  conceal  the  knowledge 
of  Mr.  Dalton's  wishes  from  Mary's  father,  too 
well  aware  that  the  prospect  of  an  immediate 
settlement  and  unlimited  wealth  would  have  a 
power  over  his  mind,  which  once  he  would  have 
scorned  to  recognize. 

The  eldest  brother  was  the  first  to  whom  the 
man  of  dollars  condescended  to  declare  his  inten 
tion  to  honor  Miss  Mary  writh  his  name  and  for 
tune  ;  but  he  was  frankly  told  that  her  heart  wras 
no  longer  in  her  own  keeping.  With  the  simpli 
city  of  an  honest  mind,  Robert  Leighton  supposed 
a  gentleman  would  need  nothing  more,  to  show  the 
impropriety  of  any  further  advances.  Judge  of 
his  indignation  when  the  purse-proud  man,  in  the 
most  patronizing  manner,  begged  leave  to  assure 
Mr.  Leighton  that  such  a  trifle  would  never  cause 
him  the  least  uneasiness.  He  was  proud  to  have 
it  in  his  power  to  place  Miss  Mary  in  so  enviable  a 

2 


26  FROM   DAWN   TO   DAYLIGHT. 

position,  that  she  could  not  fail  to  forget  all  that 
girlish  romance,  and  her  friends  might  rest  satis 
fied  that  she  would  never  be  reminded  by  him  of 
this  amiable  weakness.  Whereupon  he  was  em 
phatically  assured  that  the  young  lady,  as  well  as 
her  friends,  was  perfectly  satisfied  with  her  youth 
ful  choice,  and  could  never  experience  the  slightest 
drawings  toward  Mr.  Dalton,  or  his  omnipotent 
money-bags. 

He  left  young  Leighton  determined  on  making 
a  personal  application  to  Mary,  confident  that  his 
charms  must  prove  irresistible.  "  Just  as  though," 
said  he  to  a  crony,  "  Miss  Leighton  will  dream  of 
refusing  a  position  of  ease  and  affluence,  together 
with  a  clever  young  fellow,  like  myself,  for  limited 
means  and  a  poor  parson !  ISTo,  no.  The  Leigh- 
tons  won't  forget  so  readily  how  much  toil  and 
self-denial  they  encountered  to  secure  their  pres 
ent  position.  Trust  me,  she  will  not  say  me 
nay." 

Warned  by  her  brother  of  Dalton's  determina 
tion,  Mary  carefully  avoided  all  society  where  she 
would  be  in  danger  of  meeting  him  ;  but  the  fear 
that  he  might  make  application  to  her  father,  was 
a  source  of  great  anxiety  to  herself  and  mother ; 


AN    TTNGALLANT   SUITOR.  27 

for  unspoken  in  the  heart  of  both,  was  the  fore 
boding  of  great  sorrow,  should  he  learn  that  Mary 
had  refused  so  dazzling  an  offer. 

In  a  short  time  he  succeeded  in  forcing  himself 
into  her  presence,  and  was  politely  but  most  de 
cidedly  refused,  and  on  leaving  the  room,  coolly 
assured  her  he  should  not  consider  her  answer  as 
final  until  he  had  seen  Dr.  Leighton  himself.  This 
threat  was  soon  acted  upon,  and  of  course,  the  old 
gentleman  resolved  that  if  Mary  did  not  know 
what  was  for  her  own  good,  she  must  be  compelled 
to  understand  it. 

From  that  dark  day,  poor  Mrs.  Leighton  and  her 
daughter  were  equally  persecuted. 

Dalton  besieged  the  house ;  and  when  refused  an 
interview,  the  doctor's  anger  was  violently  aroused. 
Many  months  went  by,  and  happiness  seemed  for 
ever  banished  from  that  once  peaceful  habitation. 
George  Herbert  was  far  away,  and  delicacy  would 
not  permit  his  being  informed  of  the  trials  to  which 
his  poor  Mary  was  subjected. 

To  the  heart-sick  girl,  earth  was  fast  becoming  a 
dreary  place.  Her  father,  who  had  in  happier 
days  been  more  indulgent  to  her,  as  the  youngest 
daughter,  than  any  of  his  flock,  now  seldom  spoke, 


28  FROM   DAWN   TO   DAYLIGHT. 

except  in  anger,  or  to  insist  upon  her  listening  to 
Dalton's  addresses. 

But  there  was  a  sad  rebuke  in  store  for  his  mis 
guided  heart.  That  dreaded  scourge,  the  scarlet 
fever,  had  been  very  severe  during  the  winter  and 
spring.  Dr.  Leighton  was  in  constant  requisition, 
his  reputation  for  skill  and  sound  judgment,  in 
acute  disease,  being  still  unimpaired.  The  fatigue 
of  day  and  night  service,  at  his  advanced  age,  of 
course  had  a  tendency  to  make  him  more  than 
usually  irritable  when  at  home. 

One  evening  he  entered  his  house  under  great 
excitement.  Dalton  had,  it  appeared,  been  urging 
strong  measures — assuring  the  doctor  that  he 
would  give  up  the  pursuit,  if  Mary  could  not  be 
brought  to  obey  her  father  ;  and  smarting  under 
the  imputation  of  inability  to  control  his  household, 
he  forgot  himself,  and  words  were  spoken,  which, 
before  morning,  he  would  have  given  worlds  to 
recall. 

Mary  had  been  drooping  for  some  days,  and 
before  the  sun  again  brightened  her  pleasant 
chamber  with  his  morning  rays,  she  was  smitten 
by  the  fearful  disease  which  had  made  such  sad 
havoc  in  many  a  neighbor's  home. 


"LOOK  AT  OUR  CHILD."  29 

Oh,  how  her  fathers  heart  reproached  him, 
when,  in  the  delirium  of  fever,  she  entreated  him 
to  love  poor  Mary  again,  and  not  break  her  heart ; 
and  then  again  wildly  calling  upon  George  to 
shield  her  from  such  harsh  treatment,  and  take  her 
away. 

Suns  waxed  and  waned — hope  died  out  from  the 
mother's  heart,  and  none  may  tell  that  father's 
anguish,  when,  turning  from  her  bedside,  on  the 
fourteenth  morning,  in  reply  to  his  poor  wife's 
earnest  look,  he  said  : 

"  My  dear !  There  is  no  hope !  I  have  done 
all  I  can !"  and  the  strong  man  bowed  his  head 
on  her  shoulder  and  wept  like  a  child. 

"  Oh !  my  bird  !  my  pet,  my  darling  Mary !  If 
she  would  but  rally  long  enough  to  forgive  her 
hard  old  father!  Confound  that  Dalton!  It  is 
enough  to  drive  me  mad,  to  think  that  I  should 
have  been  willing  to  yield  my  own  sweet  dove  to 
such  a  fool  for  the  sake  of  his  dollars  V 

"Hush,  dear  husband,"  said  Mrs.  Leighton. 
"  Look  at  our  child !" 

Her  eyes  were  turned  full  on  her  father's  face, 
and  for  the  first  time  in  many  days,  beamed  with 
intelligence.  A  bright  smile  flashed  across  her 


30  FEOM   DAWN   TO   DAYLIGHT. 

wan  cheek,  speaking  as  plainly  as  words  could  have 
done,  of  love  and  forgiveness  for  him,  and  peace 
and  comfort  for  herself.  A  moment  it  lingered, 
and  then  the  fever  burned  more  fiercely  than 
before. 

For  hours  those  sorrowing  parents,  and  her 
weeping  brothers  and  sisters,  hung  over  her,  fear 
ing  each  breath  would  be  the  last.  At  length  she 
slept,  and  anxious  watchers  hushed  their  own 
heart-throbs,  to  listen  to  her  breathings.  Time 
passed  unheeded  by  that  mournful  group.  Break 
fast  and  dinner  had  been  served,  but  none  moved 
from  the  side  of  the  pale  sleeper.  Darkness  once 
more  brooded  over  the  Hill  Farm  when  Mary  woke 
— the  fearful  disease  had  spent  its  force,  and  she 
was  saved. 

Four  weeks  had  elapsed  since  that  eventful 
evening,  and  Mary,  though  convalescing,  was  not 
yet  strong.  An  irritable  word  from  her  father  had 
awakened  all  her  old  fears. 

The  doctor  had  heard  of  Dalton's  marriage  the 
previous  evening,  while  attending  to  some  business 
at  the  village  store.  A  large  number  of  idlers  were 
lounging  around,  and  the  manner  in  which  the 
intelligence  was  communicated  was  exceedingly 


ANXIETY    REMOVED.  31 

vexatious,  and  this,  together  with  the  thought  that 
the  wealth  which  might  have  been  his  daughter's, 
was  now  lost  to  her,  had  irritated  him  exceedingly. 
But  his  really  good  sense,  and  kind  heart,  soon 
banished  all  regrets,  and  he  was  able  to  recall  the 
memory  of  his  own  youthful  days,  and  to  feel  that 
wealth  was  not  necessary  to  his  child's  peace  or 
happiness.  He  saw  that  he  had  distressed  her 
greatly  by  his  petulance  in  the  morning,  and 
during  their  ride  exerted  himself  to  dispel  every 
shade  of  uneasiness  from  her  mind.  The  ride  was 
delightful,  and  Mary  returned  refreshed  and  com 
forted. 

"  And  now,  dear  mother,"  said  she,  when  she 
had  told  Mrs.  Leighton  how  pleasantly  the  time 
had  passed,  "  I  begin  to  feel  well  and  strong 
already.  The  certainty  that  I  have  nothing  more 
to  fear  from  Dalton  has  removed  a  burden  from 
my  mind  which  kept  me  constantly  anxious  ; 
but  you  need  feel  no  further  anxiety  on  my 
account.  I  consider  myself  no  longer  on  the  sick 


CHAPTEE    III. 

LEAVING  HOME. 

Two  weeks  after  the  incidents  recorded  in  the 
last  chapter,  we  again  find  Mrs.  Leighton  and  her 
daughter  seated  in  Mary's  pleasant  chamber. 

They  are  speaking  of  the  changes  which  a  few 
months  wall,  probably,  make  in  their  circum 
stances. 

"  It  makes  me  sad,  mother,  when  I  think  how 
lonely  you  and  father  will  soon  be.  Are  you 
aware  that  both  Henry  and  John  have  no  taste  for 
a  farmer's  life,  and  are  only  wraiting  for  some 
opening,  by  which  they  can  make  the  attempt  to 
secure  a  collegiate  education  ?" 

A  shadow,  for  a  moment,  crossed  Mrs.  Leighton 's 
face ;  but  all  traces  of  feeling  were  instantly  sup 
pressed,  and  she  replied,  calmly : 

"  I  ought  not  to  be  surprised,  though  I  can 
hardly  realize  that  your  brothers  have  passed  out 

32  % 


THE   GOOD   MOTHER.  33 

from  boyhood  and  should  soon  be  prepared  to  take 
their  places  among  men.  It  is  the  lot  of  all  parents 
to  bring  their  loved  ones  on,  step  by  step,  till  a 
mother's  care  and  a  father's  control  are  no  longer 
necessary,  and  then,  like  the  young  birds  you  were 
watching  so  intently  yesterday,  we  must  be  willing 
to  see  them  spread  their  wings,  and  seek  a  nest  of 
their  own." 

"  It  was  of  that  I  was  thinking ;  and  how  our 
mother,  like  that  gentle  bird,  forgetting  her  own 
sorrow,  encourages  and  strengthens  us  for  our 
flight." 

"  That  is  not  so  very  hard  to  do,  my  dear,  wrhen 
the  mother  sees  all  her  children  seeking  the  right 
path,  and  ready  to  labor  for  the  best  good  of  man 
kind,  especially  wrhen  sure,  as  I  am,  that  however 
distant,  my  children's  hearts  will  ever  turn  lovingly 
to  the  dear  old  homestead,  and  to  the  parents  shel 
tered  there." 

"  Well,  now !"  cried  Johnny,  bursting  gaily  into 
the  room,  "  if  here  isn't  our  lady  mother  and 
demure  sister  Mary,  looking  for  all  the  world  as 
if  they  were  just  entering  a  convent !  Halloo ! 
Harry,  come  here.  Wouldn't  Mrs.  Dr.  Leighton 
make  a  grand  Lady  Abbess  ?  Wonder  what  father 

o* 


34  FKOM   DAWN   TO   DAYLIGHT. 

would  say  to  that?  Doesn't  she  look  as  though 
she  had  j  ust  finished  a  lecture  to  sis,  on  the  beauty 
and  happiness  of  single  blessedness?  Say,  May 
flower,  doesn't  mother  wish  you  to  take  the  white 
veil?  If  so,  the  document  Harry  wras  bringing 
you  may  as  well  go  into  the  fire." 

"  Not  so  at  all,  Johnny,"  said  Harry.  "  I'm  much 
mistaken  if  it  has  not  more  to  do  toward  procuring 
a  white  veil  than  all  our  bonnie  mother's  lectures. 
I  wouldn't  wonder  if  it's  a  homily  from  a  certain 
devout  priest,  who  is  willing  to  take  the  trouble 
some  office  of  confessor  to  Lady  Mary  Leighton. 
You  may  be  sure  he'll  urge  the  importance  of  tak 
ing  certain  vows  as  soon  as  may  be.  But,  say,  sister 
mine,  shall  I  burn  this,  as  yonder  scapegrace  ad 
vises?"  And  the  laughing  Harry  held  up  the  letter. 

A  glance  at  Mary's  blushing  face  would  have 
revealed  the  writer,  if  the  post-mark  had  not  done 
so  before. 

"Long  looked  for,  come  at  last.  If  master 
George  doesn't  give  a  satisfactory  reason  for 
making  you  wait  so  long,  I  shall  challenge  him  to 
meet  Harry  and  myself  in  the  c  Long  Lot,'  with 
scythes  for  weapons,  and  we'll  soon  teach  the  young 
parson  a  lesson." 


A   TEASING   BROTHER.  35 

"  Leave  your  sister  in  peace,  young  giddy  pates," 
said  Mrs.  Leighton,  "  and  come  with  me." 

"  But,  mother,  I  feel  it  my  duty  (and  painful 
though  it  be,  I  shall  follow  the  path  of  duty 
straight  out,  as  good  Deacon  Tombs  says)  to  inform 
our  young  novice  here,  that  I  have  heard  of  a 
widow,  f  with  a  right  smart  chance '  of  money,  out 
in  those  western  wilds,  who  has  been  impressed 
with  the  belief  that  she  is  destined  to  take  charge 
of  George  herself.  Can  he  resist  her  golden 
charms,  Mary,  as  faithfully  as  you  did  a  cer 
tain  "— 

"  Now,  Johnny,  you  carry  your  jesting  too  far, 
and  asserting  my  rights,  I  shall  command  you  to 
leave  my  domains,"  said  his  sister,  rising.  Her 
brother  caught  her  in  his  arms  and  showered  a 
score  of  kisses  on  hands,  face  and  brow,  in  revenge, 
as  he  said,  for  being  so  rudely  dismissed,  and  then, 
with  his  mother  and  brother,  left  the  room. 

The  letter  evidently  agitates  our  fair  friend,  and, 
availing  ourselves  of  an  author's  invisibility  and 
privilege,  we  will  purloin  the  contents,  and  soon 
learn  what  has  so  suddenly  driven  the  roses  from 
her  cheek. 


36  FROM   DAWN   TO   DAYLIGHT. 

GLENVILLE,  June  9, '.  'i — . 
MY  DEAREST  MARY  : 

I  have  delayed  writing  the  past  two  weeks,  even  at  the 
risk  of  giving  you  some  anxious  hours,  that  I  might  decide  upon  a 
proposition  of  great  importance  to  us  both.  It  required  much 
careful  deliberation,  and,  as  I  could  not  be  with  you  to  talk  it 
over,  and  must  give  an  answer  before  letters  could  pass  between 
us,  I  preferred,  for  your  peace  of  mind,  dear  one,  to  say  nothing 
till  I  could  give  you  some  definite  information. 

I  have  received  and  accepted  a  call  to  become  pastor  of  the 
church  in  this  place.  I  preached  my  first  regular  sermon  here  the 
first  of  May,  and  have  supplied  the  pulpit  for  the  three  last 
Sabbaths. 

The  place  is  small,  and  many  of  my  friends  think  I  ought  to 
secure  a  larger  field.  But  I  shall  find  more  than  I  can  do  to  my 
own  satisfaction,  I  doubt  not,  and  much  prefer  a  young  church  to 
one  that  has  become  wedded  to  certain  notions,  which  they  will 
consider  it  sacrilege  to  gainsay  or  resist. 

And  now,  my  own  Mary,  does  not  your  heart  interpret  my 
wishes  ?  Is  it  not  desirable  that  we  should  begin  life's  real  work 
together  ? 

I  am  to  be  ordained  in  six  weeks  or  two  months.  I  want  my 
wife  with  me  on  that  interesting  occasion,  and  I  feel  that  I  cannot 
be  denied.  I  cannot  think  as  I  ought  of  anything  else,  till  I 
receive  your  answer. 

May  I  come  for  you  one  month  from  to-day ;  and  will  you  be 
ready  to  leave,  with  me,  for  our  home  the  week  after  ? 

Dear  Mary,  the  home  I  offer  has  little  to  attract,  unless  the  love 
which  has  so  long  been  yours,  can  adorn  and  beautify.  I  some 
times  feel  that  it  is  selfish  to  remove  you  from  all  the  comfort* 


THE    UNEXPECTED   SUMMONS.  37 

which  surround  you,  to  the  toil  and  hardship  which  must  inevit 
ably  fall  to  your  lot,  if  you  give  yourself  to  me.  But  that  you 
have  already  done — have  you  not  ?  and  I  have  no  magnanimous 
intention  of  offering  to  resign  you  to  that  knight  of  the  Golden 
Fleece,  that  Harry  has  warned  me  of.  Ah,  Mary !  It  is  high  time 
I  had  you  safe  under  my  own  care ! 

Dearest,  I  know  you  were  sincere  when  you  promised  your  love 
to  me,  and  for  all  these  years  you  have  not  swerved,  under  many 
temptations  (God  bless  you) !  and  now,  you  will  not  hesitate  to 
grant  my  request,  even  though  it  be  a  few  months  earlier  than  we 
at  first  anticipated?  I  shall  be  restless  and  troubled  till  I  hear 
from  you.  Do  not  delay.  I  can  write  no  more  now,  and  yet  I 
feol  that  I  have  said  nothing  as  I  could  wish. 

Ever  yours,  my  own  dear  girl, 

GEORGE  HERBERT. 

Mary  had  been  accustomed  to  seek  her  mother 
when  she  had  read  her  western  letters — for  Mrs. 
Leighton  was  her  children's  confidant  in  all  things 
— but  now,  after  waiting  a  long  time,  she  sought 
her  daughter's  chamber,  hardly  knowing  why  she 
felt  uneasy.  Mary  sat  holding  her  open  letter  in 
her  hand,  but  so  deep  in  thought,  that  she  did 
not  observe  her  mother,  till  she  stood  by  her  side, 
and  anxiously  inquiring  if  she  had  received  any 
thing  to  distress  her.  "Nothing  to  distress,  dear 
mother  ;  but  much  to  sober  me."  And  she  at 
once  read  the  letter. 


38  FKOM   DAWN    TO   DAYLIGHT. 

Both  sat  silent  for  many  minutes,  and  when 
Mrs.  Leighton  at  last  spoke,  her  voice  had  lost 
something  of  its  accustomed  calmness. 

"  We  have  looked  forward  to  this  so  long, 
my  child — that  I,  for  one,  thought  I  was  prepared 
to  meet  it  more  courageously ;  yet,  now  it  comes 
over  me  like  a  new  thought.  How  can  I  learn 
to  do  without  you,  my  darling !  But  this  is  foolish, 
I  should  set  you  an  example  of  courage? 

"  Lay  by  your  letter  for  the  present,  and  come 
with  me  into  the  garden.  "We  shall  both  think 
more  cheerfully  in  the  fresh,  pure  air,  than  in 
your  chamber.  We  have  many  days,  yet,  in 
which  to  accustom  ourselves  to  the  change  pro 
posed." 

"  But,  mother,  I  must  answer  this  letter  imme 
diately ;  and  what  can  I — what  ought  I  to  say 
to  George  ?" 

"Your  answer  cannot  go  before  the  morning's 
mail,  and  you  must  come  with  me  now.  Yon 
are  pale  and  weary  with  anxious  thought.  The 
evening  will  be  soon  enough  for  your  letter." 

The  mother  and  daughter  passed  at  once  from 
the  chamber  to  the  garden,  and  after  lingering 
awhile  among  its  pleasant  walks,  and  watching 


THE   FAREWELL.  39 

the  sun  go  down  through  gorgeous  clouds,  they 
returned  to  the  house — Mary  to  write  the  import 
ant  letter,  and  Mrs.  Leighton  to  break  the  matter 
to  her  husband  and  sons. 

We  will  not  dwell  upon  the  history  of  the  next 
few  weeks.  The  joys  and  sorrows,  hopes  and 
fears,  belonging  to  those  last  days,  when  a  young, 
warm-hearted  girl  prepares  to  leave  father  and 
mother,  brother  and  sister,  to  go  forth  with  the 
chosen  one,  need  no  description. 

The  old  have  not  forgotten — the  young  will  soon 
understand  it  ~by  experience. 

The  last  words  are  spoken — the  last  fond  kisses 
exchanged,  and  tearful,  but  full  of  love  and  hope, 
the  young  bride  passes  from  the  home  of  her  child 
hood.  What  changes  ere  she  may  enter  it  again 
Does  he  who  now  gazes  fondly  on  the  fair  being 
by  his  side,  realize  all  the  responsibility  he  has 
so  gladly  assumed  ?  Will  he  deal  gently  with  her 
always — remembering  that  he  is  now  her  all — 
that  for  his  dear  sake,  she  leaves  every  tie,  and 
each  familiar  scene,  to  follow  him  into  a  land 
of  strangers,  and  that  whatever  of  care  and  labor 
may  be  in  store  for  him,  she  has  a  claim  on  his 
time  and  thoughts,  stronger  than  any  other?  Will 


40  FEOM  DAWN   TO   DAYLIGHT. 

lie  never  forget  tins  claim — or,  as  years  roll  by, 
will  not  contact  with  the  conflicting  elements  of 
this  busy  world,  so  wean  his  thoughts  from  the 
wife  of  his  youth  that  a  wish  expressed  by  her 
for  a  share  of  his  society,  or  at  least  a  small  por 
tion  of  his  hours  of  relaxation,  may  appear  to  him 
exacting  or  unkind  ? 

Ah,  this  unintentional  selfishness,  so  common 
to  literary  and  public  men,  has  caused  more  do 
mestic  unhappiness  than  aught  else  save  intem 
perance.  They  have  so  many  things  to  perplex 
and  harass  them — they  are  wearied  with  anxious 
thought  for  the  good  of  their  people,  or  by  close 
research  and  investigation  upon  literary  subjects, 
and  the  mind  must  rest,  or  change  entirely  the 
current  of  thought.  They  do  not,  by  any  means, 
intend  to  neglect  their  home  treasures,  and  are  not 
conscious  that  they  do.  But  new  acquaintances 
are  gradually  formed — a  word  must  be  given  to 
this  one,  a  few  moments  to  that,  or  just  a  step 
to  glance  at  this  curiosity  till  all  the  leisure  time 
has  flown,  and  the  public  servant  must  return  to 
duties  which  require  his  undivided  attention,  and, 
perhaps,  not  one  word  or  look  has  been  saved  for 
home.  If,  after  many  such  experiences,  the  \?ifo 


WEDDED   LITE.  41 

ventures  a  timid  remonstrance,  a  sharp  rebuke 
may  be  the  reply ;  no  doubt,  repented  as  soon  as 
uttered,  but  the  conscience  is  easily  silenced,  by 
"  Well,  I  did  not  mean  to  speak  so  impatiently  ; 
but  she  is  unreasonable.  She  should  not  forget 
that  a  public  man  has  duties,  in  the  way  of  trifling 
attentions  to  those  interested  in  him,  and — and — 
well,  I'll  be  more  careful  in  future."  But  con 
science,  thus  silenced,  does  not  long  ward  off  other, 
and  more  severe  rebuffs,  and  it  takes  but  a  few 
years  of  such  teaching,  to  make  a  wife  fear  as 
well  as  love;  and,  if  sometimes  wearied  with  long 
ing  for  a  few  loving  words,  sick,  and  overburdened 
with  many  cares,  her  sense  of  right  and  justice 
overcome  both  fear  and  love,  and  she  speaks  plain 
truths — such  as  a  wife  can  never,  safely,  venture 
upon — most  likely  she  increases  the  evil  instead 
of  remedying  it.  Oh !  why  need  this  ever  be  so, 
when  deep  in  the  heart  of  both,  burns  a  love 
stronger  than  death  ? 

But,  thanks  be  to  God,  there  are  many  glorious 
exceptions,  and  that,  too,  among  the  most  prominent 
of  public  and  literary  men.  There  are  those  whose 
hearts  are  springs,  which  no  labor  or  adverse  cir 
cumstances  can  quench  ;  whom  God  has  so  abund- 


42  FEOM   DAWN   TO   DAYLIGHT. 

antly  endowed,  that,  while  the  home  garden,  as 
the  source  and  centre,  is  always  fresh  and  decked 
with  unfading  flowers,  the  overflow  of  this  glad, 
living-stream,  freshens  and  brightens,  and  purifies 
the  whole  region  around,  sending  love,  kindness, 
and  unfailing  cheerfulness  wherever  it  flows. 
Blessed  among  women  is  the  wife  of  such  a 
one!  It  matters  not  how  unpropitious  may  be 
all  else  that  can  surround  her,  the  consciousness 
of  so  safe  a  resting-place  will  lighten  toil,  and 
bring  pleasure  out  of  pain. 


CHAPTEE    IF. 

THE   BRIDAL    TEIP. 

left  our  young  friends,  rather  unceremo 
niously,  at  the  beginning  of  their  bridal  tour,  to 
make  some  grave  reflections,  which  they,  at  least, 
will  deem  entirely  uncalled  for. 

A  letter  or  two,  from  Mary  to  her  mother,  will 
give  the  particulars  of  her  journey. 

"PITTSBURG,  Sept.  — ,  18 — . 

"  DEAR  MOTHER  : 

"You  doubtless  received  my  short  note 
from  New  York;  and  I  now  employ  my  first 
leisure  moment,  in  this  city  of  coal  and  smoke,  to 
give  you  the  history  of  our  journey  thus  far. 

"  We  went  by  railroad  across  New  York  State ; 
my  first  experience  with  the  'iron  horse'  you 
know.  I  had  felt  somewhat  timid  when  I  thought 
of  trying  this,  to  me,  unusual  mode  of  travelling. 
Johnny  will  remember  some  lines  purporting  to  be 
the  defiance  of  this  fiery  Bucephalus : 


44  FBOM   DAWN   TO   DAYLIGHT. 

"  Tetter  me  strong  with  your  iron  bands, 

Be  sure  of  your  curb  and  rein ; 
For  I  scorn  the  might  of  your  puny  handg, 
As  the  tempest  laughs  at  chains.' 

"  "Well,  after  thus  throwing  the  gauntlet  in  the 
face  of  all  travellers,  my  impression  was,  that  I 
shouldn't  feel  at  all  '  sure  of  the  curb  and  rein.'  I 
didn't  wish  George  to  suspect  me  of  such  folly,  for 
1  imagine  he  would  be  a  good  deal  mortified,  if  his 
wife  supposed  herself  at  liberty  to  start,  and 
scream,  and  show  off  many  of  those  little  fancy 
airs,  which  wiser  brides  than  I  pretend  to  be,  are 
sometimes  accustomed  to  consider  a  part  of  the 
honeymoon  privileges. 

"  Having  guessed  this  much  of  my  spouse's 
character,  you  must  know  I  had  for  many  days 
been  laying  up  a  large  stock  of  fortitude  and 
courage  for  this  very  journey. 

"  But  isn't  it  too  provoking,  dear  mother,  to  have 
made  all  this  preparation  for  nothing  ?  Perhaps  I 
may  thank  my  noisy,  frolicksome  brothers  for  a 
large  share  of  my  self-possession ;  for  I  really 
doubt  if  the  huge  black  nondescript,  that  flew  with 
us,  over  the  road,  is  capable  of  making  more 
unearthly  sounds  than  I  have  often  heard  in  and 


RAILROAD   TRAVELLING.  4:5 

about  my  own  loved  home.  At  any  rate,  I  flatter 
myself,  George  never  once  thought  I  was  a  novice 
in  railroad  travelling. 

"  I  did,  indeed,  wince  a  little,  when  I  first  heard 
the  hideous  shriek  of  the  steam- whistle,  and  again, 
when  composedly  reading,  in  broad  daylight,  I 
found  myself,  of  a  sudden,  in  Egyptian  darkness, 
I  involuntarily  caught  hold  of  George's  arm.  To 
be  sure,  I  recovered  instantly,  and  meant  to  have 
passed  it  off  as  a  love  token,  but  the  ingrate  gravely 
remarked  :  '  Don't  be  alarmed,  Mary,  we  are  only 
passing  through  the  tunnel.'  'So  I  perceive,'  I 
demurely  replied ;  and  as  we  began  to  catch 
glimpses  of  sunlight,  I  slily  glanced  into  his  face,  to 
see  if  my  ruse  was  successful.  Imagine  my  vexation, 
when  I  saw  that  curl  of  the  lip,  and  roguish  twin 
kle  of  the  eye  which  I  have  so  often  enjoyed  when 
others  were  the  occasion  of  it.  I  think  after  this,  I 
will  make  no  pretensions  to  more  than  I  am  capable 
of  sustaining ;  certainly  not  for  some  time,  at  least. 

"  My  husband,  however,  has  to-day  been  maneu 
vering  to  pass  himself  off  in  my  eyes  as  a  deep 
thinker — an  exceedingly  absent-minded  man — and, 

in  truth,  he  so  nearly  succeeded  that  I  shouldn't  like 

% 
him  to  repeat  the  experiment. 


4:6  FKOM    DAWN    TO    DAYLIGHT. 

"  We  changed  cars  at  the  station,  where  we 
dined.  During  these  changes,  everything,  to  the 
uninitiated,  is  perfect  confusion  ;  and,  as  trains  are 
passing  in  all  directions,  there  is  danger  that  the 
verdant  traveller  should  make  a  mistake,  and, 
crab-like,  go  backward. 

"  George,  therefore,  charged  me  to  remain  just  in 
that  place.  ISTo  matter  what  running  to  and  fro  I 
might  see,  I  was  not  to  stir  from  that  window  till 
he  had  looked  after  the  baggage,  when  he  would 
be  sure  and  come  for  me  in  season.  I  obeyed  his 
direction,  literally,  like  a  dutiful  wife. 

"  After  a  short  time,  from  the  window  where  I 
stood,  I  saw  a  gentleman  take  a  seat  in  a  train  that 
seemed  all  ready  to  start,  and  deliberately  com 
mence  reading  a  paper.  Surely  that  is  George ! 
Why  didn't  he  come  for  me  ?  Yes,  it  is !  No  mistake 
about  that.  Well,  I  needn't  worry.  He  told  me 
on  no  account  to  leave  this  window,  till  he  called 
me.  But  there  is  the  bell !  Gentlemen  are  calling 
for  their  wives,  mothers  hurrying  across  the  plat 
form  with  their  children,  and  he  remains  immov 
able.  If  I  should  be  left!  I  can  endure  it  no 
longer.  I  hastened  to  the  door :  c  George  !'  I 
couldn't  forbear  smiling,  even  then,  at  his  look  of 


ABSENT-MINDEDNESS.  47 

utter  dismay.  The  cars  began  to  move.  With 
one  bound  he  gained  the  platform,  and,  aided  by 
the  conductor,  succeeded  in  swinging  me  on  board ! 

"We  both  sat  very  still  for  some  minutes;  I 
shan't  tell  you  in  what  words  he  apologized,  but 
if  he  ever  laughs  at  me  about  my  unlucky  qffec- 
tionateness,  when  passing  through  that  tunnel,  I 
shall,  assuredly,  remind  him  of  his  attempted 
desertion  of  the  wife  of  a  week. 

"He  says  it  was  absent-mindedness.  But  how  do 
I  know  that  he  did  not  intend  leaving  me  there, 
in  the  wilderness,  without  money,  clothes,  or 
friends?  At  any  rate,  I  mean  to  lay  it  up  as  a 
weapon  of  defence.  May  I  not,  mother? 

"Soon  after  we  had  finished  talking  over  this 
little  incident,  the  conductor  came  to  examine 
our  tickets.  But  an  instant  before,  George  had 
left  my  side.  4 Ticket,  madam!'  I  looked  for 
my  husband,  but  not  seeing  him,  replied,  'The 
gentleman  with  me  has  it." 

"  <  What  name  ?'  '  Miss  Leighton.'  He  looked 
carefully  through  the  list  of  passengers  on  his 
book.  c  I  don't  see  any  such  name — did  I  under 
stand  aright?'  'Miss  Leighton,  sir.'  cAh,  yes, 
Leighton — well,  let  me  see,'  and  again  his  eye 


4:8  FROM   DAWN   TO   DAYLIGHT. 

ran  over  the  names.  It  was  becoming  very  annoy 
ing,  for  the  attention  of  the  passengers  was  drawn 
toward  us.  '  I  can't  find  it ;'  and  this  time  there 
was  a  touch  of  incredulity  in  his  tone.  '  "Will 
you  please  see  if  you  can  find  the  name  your 
self,  madam !' 

"  Of  course  I  took  the  book  in  the  most  con 
fident  manner,  and  I  dare  say,  with  a  look  of 
injured  innocence.  Up  and  down  all  those  lines 
my  eye  wandered,  but  no  'Miss  Leighton'  was 
there.  The  letters  ran  together — the  names  began 
a  wild  fantastic  dance  over  the  pages — I  saw  a 
storm  gathering  in  the  conductor's  eye — I  raised 
my  head  to  meet  the  worst,  and  there  stood  that 
most  inveterate  of  all  teases,  suffocating  with 
merriment.  He  came  forward  at  this  crisis,  and 
taking  a  seat  by  my  side,  said,  f  If  you  will  look 
for  Mrs.  Herbert  instead  of  Miss  Leighton,  you 
will  find  it  all  right.  The  lady  is  not  quite  fami 
liar  with  her  own  name!' 

"  This  is  a  specimen  of  the  life  I  am  to  expect, 
I  presume.  "Well,  my  dear  brothers  have  given 
me  some  lessons  beforehand. 

"I  must  close  this  long  letter,  I  have  wearied 
you  all,  I  fear.  I  kept  on  writing,  with  little  of 


WRITING   HOME.  4:9 

interest  to  tell,  just  because  it  seemed  eo  like 
talking  with  you  all  once  more. 

"  Good  night,  and  blessings  on  you  all,  my  own 
loved  ones.  George  unites  in  love. 

"You  shall  hear  again  as  soon  as  we  reach 
the  end  of  our  journey. 

"  Ever  yours,  lovingly, 

"MARY  HERBERT." 

"  GLENVILLE,  Sept.  — ,  18 — . 

"  MY  DEAREST  MOTHER  : 

"  You  will  see  by  the  post-mark  that  we 
are  home  at  last.  How  strange  to  speak  of  any 
spot,  but  Hill  Farm,  as  home  ! 

"  I  have  little  of  interest  to  tell  connected  with 
our  journey  from  Pittsburg  to  this  place,  or  rather, 
that  which  was  exceedingly  interesting  to  me,  I 
might  not  be  able  to  make  so  to  you.  I  have, 
to  tell  the  truth,  been  a  little  ashamed  of  my  last 
epistle,  and  imagine  I  hear  father  say,  c  Pshaw ! 
does  the  silly  girl  suppose  that  these  little  honey 
moon  adventures  will  have  the  same  charm  to 
the  c  old  folks  at  home,'  c  that  they  have  to  her.' 
Excuse  it,  this  once,  dear  father.  I'm  the  min 
ister*  s  wife  now,  and  you'll  see  how  grave 


50  FROM   DAWN   TO   DAYLIGHT. 

I  shall  be;  at  least  I  hope  you  will.  I  haven't 
become  so  accustomed  to  my  honors  as  to  feel 
quite  sure  that  I  shall  wear  them  with  proper 
dignity. 

""We  arrived  at  this  place  about  noon,  and 
were  met  by  one  of  George's  elders,  Mr.  Blake, 
with  whom  we  are  to  board  for  the  present.  I 
was  so  well  prepared  by  my  husband's  descrip 
tions,  that  I  was  not  greatly  surprised,  when  we 
picked  our  way  from  the  wharf  to  the  house  through 
mud  and  over  pigs;  but  my  first  impression  was, 
that  we  should  find  these  two  articles,  the  staple 
commodity  of  this  far-famed  region. 

"  The  village  is  on  the  banks  of  the  river,  and 
certainly  can  boast  of  but  little  beauty,  though 
I  ought  not  to  judge  till  I  have  seen  more. 

"  Most  of  the  houses  are  low,  brown  cottages — 
many  ranking  no  higher  than  log-cabins.  Our 
host's  dwelling  is  a  pretty,  two-story  white  house, 
with  a  fine  veranda  in  front,  but  built  too  near 
the  road,  and  with  but  a  few  shade-trees.  He 
is  a  man  of  wealth,  and  abundantly  able  to  live 
in  more  fashionable  style. 

"  But  he  has  married  a  frugal  Yankee  girl  (he 
is  himself  of  Dutch  decent),  and  both  agree,  I  pre- 


OH  !    THE  MOSQUITOES.  51 

sume,  in  preferring  comfort  to  gentility.  There 
I  agree  with  them,  though  I  can't  quite  under 
stand  why  her  eastern  education  has  not  made 
her  feel  the  necessity  of  a  few  more  conveniencies. 
But  that  is  not  my  business.  I  ought  rather  to 
be  learning  how  to  do  without  many  things, 
which  I  have  been  accustomed  to  consider  indis 
pensable. 

"  Should  we  ever  attempt  to  keep  house,  it 
will  be  on  a  very  small  pattern.  That  gives  me 
no  uneasiness  however.  I  flatter  myself,  I  could 
find  considerable  amusement  in  contriving  to  do 
with  as  little  as  possible. 

"  Last  night  was  my  first  real  experience  of  the 
torments  which  the  mosquito  is  capable  of  inflict 
ing.  You  know  brother  Robert  used  to  tell  long 
yarns  about  them ;  but  I  always  suspected  him  of 
a  slight  exaggeration.  I  beg  his  pardon,  most 
humbly,  now.  I  am  well  paid  for  the  injustice  I 
did  him,  however;  verily,  the  half  was  not  told 
me.  If  you  could  only  see  me !  Face,  neck,  and 
arms  are  speckled  and  swollen  out  of  all  resem 
blance  to  my  former  self.  And  to-day  I  am  to 
receive  calls  from  our  parishioners!  They  will 
not  accuse  their  pastor  of  marrying  for  beauty. 


52  FROM   DAWN   TO   DAYLIGHT. 

that's  certain;  but  of  course  they  will  presume 
it  must  have  been  goodness  which  captivated  him. 
Alas!  for  the  time  when  they  discover  their 
mistake ! 

"  And  here  they  come.  Oh !  how  I  dread  these 
first  introductions. 

"  Evening. — The  day  is  over  at  last,  and  I  am  at 
liberty  to  converse  a  while  with  the  dear  home 
circle. 

"  I  judge  we  must  have  received  calls  from 
nearly  all  who  will  come  under  my  husband's  care. 
And  such  a  variety,  I  would  not  have  believed 
to  belong  to  one  country. 

"The  most  grotesque  styles  of  dress;  the  funniest 
and  most  uncouth  mode  of  expression !  But  I  will 
not  allow  myself  to  criticise  these  trifling  peculi 
arities.  They  are  '  our  people]  with  whom  we  are 
to  be  associated  for  years — may  be  for  life — in 
whose  well-being  we  must  feel  the  deepest  inte 
rest. 

"I  shall  soon  become  accustomed  to  all  that  now 
strikes  me  as  singular.  I  hope  to  make  them  love 
me,  and  am  sure  it  will  be  no  hard  matter  to  love 
them  in  return. 

"  There  was  one  old  lady,  in  whom  I  am  already 


NEW    FEIEND8.  53 

greatly  interested.  She  reminds  me,  dear  mother, 
so  much  of  your  father,  in  person ;  and  I  much 
mistake  if  she  has  not  many  of  his  mental  excel 
lences,  only  she  lacks  the  cheerful,  joyous  look  he 
always  wore.  I  am  confident  she  has  a  history 
worth  hearing.  Her  face  is  very  pleasant  to  look 
upon ;  but  there  is  a  subdued  and  saddened  expres 
sion  about  her,  that  speaks  plainly  of  suffering, 
or  heart-trials.  She  is  very  kind  and  lady-like  in 
her  manner,  and  I  already  feel  more  drawn 
toward  her  than  any  one  I  have  seen  since  I  left 
you. 

"  Another  quiet,  gentle  lady,  with  three  pretty 
daughters,  pleased  me  greatly.  Her  husband  is  a 
Methodist  class-leader,  but  taught  by  his  wife,  I 
presume,  he  is  very  liberal  in  his  feelings  toward 
other  denominations.  I'm  sure  I  shall  love  Mrs. 
Gilbert.  But  I  was  sorry  to  see  indications  of  very 
feeble  health.  Indeed,  no  one  thing  has  struck  me 
BO  unpleasantly,  as  the  pale,  sallow,  unhealthy-look 
ing  people  I  have  met,  so  far,  since  I  came 
here.  I  have  not  seen  one  clear,  rosy-cheeked 
person,  such  as  we  meet  constantly  in  New  Eng 
land  ;  and  yesterday,  before  my  face  was  so  disfi 
gured  by  the  ravages  of  the  mosquitoes,  I  was 


54:  FROM     DAWN   TO   DAYLIGHT. 

asked  several  times  if  I  had  not  a  (  fever  spell ' 
upon  me,  because  my  cheeks  were  so  red ! 

"  Among  those  presented,  were  several  who  will 
teach  me  caution,  I  imagine.  At  any  rate,  I  felt 
that  they  came  to  'spy  out  the  land,'  and  make 
reports.  But  such  persons  are  common  every 
where  ;  and  I  presume,  on  further  acquaintance, 
I  shall  find  many  lovable  qualities,  even  in 
them. 

"  Just  before  tea,  I  walked  with  George  and  Mr. 
Blake  as  far  as  our  church.  It  is  a  small,  un- 
painted  building,  capable  of  seating  about  as  many 
as  the  c  school-house  '  near  the  church  at  home.  It 
certainly  has  no  architectural  beauties,  externally, 
or  adornments,  internally,  to  distract  attention 
from  the  word  spoken ;  but,  nevertheless,  it  may 
be  quite  as  likely  to  prove  the  c  very  gate  of 
heaven,'  as  many  of  our  splendid  eastern  churches. 

"  I  must  close,  from  fatigue,  for,  aside  from 
unpacking  trunks  and  c  putting  things  to  rights '  in 
our  little  room,  and  receiving  many  calls,  I  have 
been  very  busy  making  a  net,  to  protect  us  from 
our  enemies  to-night.  It  is  a  common  arrange 
ment  here,  but  I  am  quite  dubious  about  it.  I 
fancy  I  shall  prefer,  out  of  two  evils,  feasting  the 


MOSQUITOES.  55 

little  savages,  to  being  smothered.  It  makes  me 
gasp  for  breath,  even  now,  to  think  of  becoming  a 
prisoner  under  this  curious  affair. 

"  Good  night.     George  unites  in  warmest  love. 
"  Most  affectionately, 

"  MARY  HERBERT." 


CHAPTEE  Y. 

PREPARING      A      HOME. 

ME.  and  Mrs.  Herbert  have  now  fairly  entered 
upon  their  labors.  There  was  much  in  their  situa 
tion  to  perplex  and  dishearten,  but  they  came 
prepared  for  it  all,  and  found  their  courage  rising 
as  difficulties  met  them. 

The  church  was  but  a  handful,  composed  chiefly 
of  the  poor  and  illiterate.  The  wealthy,  and  more 
intellectual  class  of  the  population  were  attendants 
on  the  Methodist  church,  that  being  the  fashion 
able  denomination.  This  little  church  had  almost 
died  out;  and  when  Mr.  Herbert  was  first  re 
quested  to  supply  the  pulpit,  neither  he,  nor  those 
who  invited  him,  had  a  thought  of  its  being  but  for 
the  one  Sabbath.  But  he  was  full  of  life  and 
freshness,  and  possessed  of  a  mind  of  no  common 
order.  His  manner  of  preaching  was  something 
original.  It  woke,  them  up.  They  were  not  quite 
prepared  to  decide  whether  it  was  lest  to  be  so 

50 


THE  NEW   PEEACHEK.  57 

thoroughly  aroused.  It  was  not  exactly  comfort 
able  ;  but  at  any  rate  there  could  be  no  great  harm 
in  trying  it  once  more.  The  next  Sabbath  the 
little  building  was  crowded,  and  many,  from  other 
churches,  were  present. 

There  was  no  longer  a  doubt  The  satisfaction 
was  general ;  and  all,  even  other  sects,  felt  that  a 
man  like  the  new  preacher  would  be  a  public 
blessing.  But  could  he  be  induced  to  settle  over 
so  insignificant  a  church  ?  They  would  give  him 
a  "  call,"  at  all  events.  The  invitation  was  ex 
tended  to  him ;  and,  although  his  friends  were 
anxious  he  should  look  higher,  yet  his  own  judg 
ment  told  him,  in  such  a  community,  a  large  work 
could  be  clone,  and  certainly  few  places  needed  it 
more. 

Beside,  the  unusual  interest  manifested  by  all 
classes  would  seem  an  indication  of  Providence, 
that  this  was  to  be  at  least  his  first  field  of  labor. 
And  thus  the  matter  was  settled,  and  he  has  come, 
with  his  young  bride,  to  cast  in  his  lot  among 
them. 

Their  church  could  only  offer  a  very  small  com 
pensation,  and  it  was  so  inadequate  to  their  neces 
sities,  that  it  was  deemed  advisable  to  board  for  the 

3* 


58  FEOM   DAWN   TO   DAYLIGHT. 

present,  and  even  then,  it  would  be  difficult  to  tell 
how  they  were  to  get  safely  through  the  year. 

But  Mrs.  Herbert  was  sajiguine.  There  were 
many  ways,  she  was  quite  sure,  by  which  she  could 
help  eke  out  their  scanty  means.  She  had  no  false 
pride  about  laboring  with  her  own  hands.  Her 
early  training,  at  Hill  Farm,  had  prepared  her  phy 
sically,  for  just  the  position  she  now  held  j  and  most 
heartily,  as  every  day's  experience  disclosed  some 
additional  necessity  for  energy  and  industry,  did 
she  bless  her  mother  for  the  ability,  which  she  felt 
confident  of  possessing,  to  meet  the  emergencies 
before  her. 

Let  me  pause  here  one  moment,  to  offer  a  few 
words  for  the  serious  consideration  of  those  who 
have  a  Home  Missionary's  life  in  prospect. 

I  have  known  and  seen  much  of  the  sufferings 
and  trials,  which  await  the  wives  of  those  who  go 
out  to  our  new  States  to  preach  the  gospel.  Let  any 
one,  who  contemplates  such  a  life,  be  sure  that  his 
chosen  companion  has  health  and  strength  for  the 
task,  and,  withal,  a  domestic  education,  fitting  her 
for  the  labor,  which  cannot  be  avoided.  If  she  has 
not  all  these,  the  attempt  to  occupy  such  a  field  is 
throwing  life  and  usefulness  away, 


MISSIONAKT    LABOR.  59 

None  can  tell,  but  those  who  have  been  tried, 
now  soon  the  strongest  constitutions  droop  before 
the  difficulties  and  hard  labor  incident  to  limited 
means,  in  the  generally  unhealthy  climate  of  our 
new  States.  I  could  point  to  many,  many  graves 
where  rest  true-hearted  wives,  who  came,  willing 
and  anxious  to  aid  their  husbands  in  spreading  the 
Gospel,  but  whose  strength  failed  before  the  first 
few  years  of  hardship  and  disease. 

A  more  correct  public  sentiment  is  rapidly 
spreading  over  the  whole  country,  but  at  the  time 
of  which  I  write,  a  clergyman's  support  was  con 
sidered  as  charity  in  western  life,  and  the  small, 
very  small  amount  promised,  was  not  always  paid. 
That  "  the  laborer  was  worthy  of  his  hire,"  none 
pretended  to  deny,  but  a  parson  wasn't  one  of 
those  meant  by  that  passage.  "  "What  labor  can 
there  be  in  dashing  off  two  sermons  on  Sunday, 
and  making  an  *  off  hand '  speech  two  or  three 
times  during  the  week  days.  And  surely  it  is 
no  hardship  to  run  round  and  sit  a  while  with  the 
sick.  A  wedding  and  a  funeral  now  and  then 
can't  be  any  great  labor.  Why,  for  my  part, 
I  think  the  preachers  have  a  real  easy  time  of  it. 
And  then  the  parson's  wife,  I  can't  see  why  shfl 


00  FKOM  DAWN   TO   DAYLIGHT. 

shouldn't  milk  the  cows,  and  split  the  kindling- 
wood  occasionally,  and  do  the  housework  as  well 
as  my  Betsey."  Ah,  yes !  if  that  were  all !  But 
who  remembers  that  added  to  all  that  "Betsey" 
does,  the  minister's  wife  must  be  out  among  the 
people,  or  they  will  find  fault.  She  must  head 
the  Sewing  Society  and  Maternal  Association,  and 
preside  at  the  Female  Prayer  Meeting,  be  "  at 
home  "  to  calls,  at  all  hours  of  the  day,  and  of 
the  most  unmerciful  length,  from  the  very  ones, 
perhaps,  who  will  go  away  and  wonder  that  Mrs. 

's  floors  were  not  cleaner,  or  her  work  out  of 

the  way  in  better  season ;    or  "  did  you  see  that 

hole  in  Mr.  's   coat  ?"     "  Yes,   and   Carrie's 

dress  wanted  mending  sadly,  and  "Willie's  hands 

and  face  were  really  dirty.     How  can  Mrs. l>e 

so  careless  f"  And  they  know  at  the  same  time, 
that  there  is  no  hand  but  hers  to  do  these  things. 
How  is  she  to  do  them,  if  each  caller  stays  an 
hour  or  more  ?  If  a  lady  calls  at  ten  o'clock  on 
a  minister's  wife,  who  does  her  own  work,  because 
she  has  not  the  means  to  hire  it  done — can't  she 
recollect  that  a  dinner  is  to  be  prepared — that, 
possibly,  while  she  sits  idly  chatting,  the  bread 
may  be  growing  sour  or  burning.  When  is  the 


HEAD   SICK  AND   HEAET   FAINT.  61 

floor  to  be  scrubbed,  or  the  work  done,  or  the 
ragged  coat  or  dress  mended?  Look  in  after 
ten  o'clock  at  night,  and  you  will  see  her  finish 
ing  off  the  large  wash,  which  you  so  thought 
lessly  delayed ;  or  still  later,  with  aching  head  and 
weary  frame,  repairing  the  worn  garments  you 
so  cruelly  criticised.  No  wonder  that  the  head 
is  sick,  and  the  whole  heart  faint,  and  at  length, 
she,  who  only  a  few  years  ago  came  among  them, 
fresh  and  hopeful,  is  laid  to  rest  by  the  side  of 
many  who  have  been  as  needlessly  sacrificed  ;  or, 
what,  to  a  sensitive  spirit,  is  worse  than  dying,  her 
husband  is  compelled,  in  order  to  save  her  life, 
to  abandon  a  field  of  great  and  increasing  useful 
ness,  and  remove  her  to  her  native  land. 

But  Mrs.  Herbert's  heart  was  strong  and  hope 
ful,  too  fully  engrossed  in  present  labor,  to  indulge 
in  dark  forebodings  for  the  future,  and  no  leisure, 
to  afflict  herself  by  imagining  what  trials  it  might 
possibly  bring. 

Elder  Blake  and  his  wife,  with  whom  they  con 
tinued  to  board,  were  exceedingly  attentive,  and 
with  their  charges  there  could  be  no  complaint. 
They  received  them  into  their  house  from  kind 
ness,  and  not  with  the  hope  of  gain.  Still  Mary 


62  FEOM   DAWN   TO   DAYLIGHT. 

was  quite  confident  that,  could  they  once  manage 
to  meet  the  first  expenses  of  beginning,  they  could, 
in  a  home  of  their  own,  no  matter  how  humble, 
live  even  more  economically,  and  the  necessity  for 
the  most  rigid  caution,  was  becoming  more  and 
more  evident  each  day.  Mr.  Herbert  fully  agreed 
with  his  wife  on  this  point ;  but  how  could  they 
raise  the  needful  for  the  first,  absolutely  necessary, 
outlays.  That  was  a  problem  which  they  could  not 
solve.  But  Providence  settled  that  question  for 
them,  about  three  months  after  their  arrival,  very 
unexpectedly. 

Mr.  Herbert  was  absent  at  a  Presbytery  meet 
ing,  when  circumstances  made  it  exceedingly 
desirable  that  Mrs.  Blake  should  resume  possession 
of  the  room  they  occupied.  Mrs.  Herbert  could  pro 
cure  no  other  boarding-place,  and,  therefore,  "  a 
necessity  wras  laid  upon  them"  to  commence  house 
keeping  immediately,  and  Mary  at  once  devoted 
herself  to  the  novel  labor  of  "  house-hunting,"  and 
before  one  day  expired,  found  it  a  much  more 
laborious  undertaking  than  she  had  anticipated. 

Houses,  and  parts  of  houses,  were  plenty,  but 
the  rent  was  so  far  above  their  limited  means, 
that  there  was  no  occasion  for  a  moment's  deli- 


HOUSE-HUNTING.  63 

beration.  She  wearied  herself  going  from  house 
to  house,  looking  into  all  imaginable  and  unim 
aginably  filthy  places,  called  tenements,  but  the 
same  difficulty  extended  even  to  these.  Her  ideas 
of  what  'must  be  had,  were  becoming  more  and 
more  unpretending,  with  each  new  trial,  until 
she  was  satisfied  that  anything  under  cover,  which 
would  protect  them  from  rain  and  cold,  and  give 
place  for  a  bed,  stove,  and  her  husband's  books 
and  study-table,  would  be  gratefully  received. 

"When  hope  was  nearly  exhausted,  she  was  told 
one  morning  of  some  empty  rooms,  in  the  second- 
story  of  an  old  ungainly  house,  which  might  pos 
sibly  be  obtained.  The  lower  story  was  owned 
and  occupied  by  one  of  Iheir  church  members,  who, 
out  of  kindness  to  his  pastor,  would  be  inclined  'to 
place  the  rent  within  their  reach.  Mary  hastened 
to  examine,  and  if  practicable,  arrange  for  imme 
diate  possession. 

One  of  her  letters  to  Hill  Farm,  will  give  a 
more  graphic  description  of  this  week's  trials  and 
experience,  than  any  effort  of  mine  could  do. 

"  GLENVILLE,  Nov.  — ,  18 — . 
DEAK  HOME  FKIENDS  : 

"You  will  be  surprised  to  learn  that  we 


64:  FROM  DAWN  TO   DAYLIGHT. 

have  relinquished  our  boarding  plans,  and  are 
really  settled  in  our  own  home — the  most  impro 
bable  of  all  events,  when  I  last  wrote.  I  can 
hardly  realize  now,  that  it  is  anything  more  than 
one  of  my  day  dreams. 

"  Shall  I  go  back  a  few  weeks  and  give  you  a 
short  history  of  my  ( life  and  adventures  ?' 

"Circumstances  which  they  could  not  control, 
made  it  necessary  that  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Blake,  with 
whom  we  have  been  boarding,  should  have  pos 
session  of  the  room  we  have  occupied  since  we 
came.  George  was  from  home  when  Mrs.  Blake 
gave  me  this  information,  and  I  saw  it  was  im 
portant  for  her,  that  we  should  make  some  change, 
as  soon  as  possible.  Both  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Blake 
have  been  exceedingly  kind — a  brother  and  sister 
could  not  have  been  more  so. 

"No  other  boarding-place,  within  the  limit  of 
our  means,  could  be  procured,  and  I  commenced 
at  once  the  new  work  of  c  house-hunting.'  I 
imagined  it  would  be  a  very  easy,  and  rather 
pleasant  occupation ;  but  I  assure  you,  long  before 
night,  I  changed  my  mind. 

"Tenements  were  plenty  enough,  but  the  rent 
was  far  above  my  comprehension.  A  house,  I 


PERTINACITY   DESIRABLE.  65 

supposed,  I  must  have  of  course.  A  small  one,  to 
be  sure,  but  how  could  we  do  without  a  kitchen, 
dining-room  and  parlor?  Two  chambers  and  a 
study  were  accommodations  absolutely  necessary. 

"  There  was,  however,  a  change  of  several  degrees 
in  my  estimate  of  the  '  must  haves,'  long  ere  I  had 
finished  my  second  day's  search.  I  returned  to 
my  room  wearied  and  perplexed,  but  by  no  means 
discouraged.  You  know,  dear  father,  how  often 
you  have  teased  me  for  the  pertinacity  with  which 
I  always  held  on  to  a  plan,  or  idea,  and  many 
times,  I  doubt  not,  it  has  been  something  of  an 
annoyance  to  you,  and  perhaps  other  friends,  espe 
cially,  w^hen  my  train  of  thoughts  or  wishes  was 
at  variance  with  their  own.  I  certainly  have 
always  been  accustomed  to  look  upon  it  as  a  fault 
in  my  character.  But  '  that  night  could  not  the 
king  sleep.'  As  I  lay  thinking  and  planning,  the 
thought  flashed  across  my  mind — perhaps  that 
very  tenacity  of  thought  and  purpose,  which  in 
my  girlhood-days,  seemed  an  undesirable  trait,  may 
after  all,  help  to  carry  me  through  many  a  strait 
place,  and  I  suspect,  if  it  le  a  characteristic  needed 
for  my  present  position,  I  shall  find  full  employ 
ment  for  it  all,  and  perhaps  by  it  be  able  to  add  to. 


66  FROM  DAWN   TO   DAYLIGHT. 

instead  of  detracting  from,  the  comfort  of  those  I 
love. 

"You  would  smile,  dear  mother,  if  you  knew 
how  much  this  self-congratulatory  train  of  thought 
comforted  me  in  my  perplexities.  So  much  so, 
that  I  concluded  to  defer  any  further  attempts  at 
reformation,  till  I  had,  at  least,  obtained  a  dwelling- 
place.  After  that  I  will  take  the  matter  again 
into  consideration ;  but  there  is  something  so  very 
refreshing  in  imagining  that  a  youthful  defect 
may,  in  riper  years,  be  transformed  into  a  most 
important  and  valuable  quality,  that  I  may  not 
find  it  easy  to  return  to  my  early,  and  more  hum 
ble  estimate  of  myself. 

"I  will  not  ask  you  to  pardon  this  digression, 
for  I  please  myself  with  the  idea,  that  those  to 
to  whom  I  write,  will  like  best  to  feel  that  my 
thoughts  come  to  them,  just  as  unconstrainedly 
as  they  would  if  I  sat  in  your  midst. 

"  After  many  hours'  careful  thought,  I  came  to 
the  conclusion  that  I  was  altogether  too  aristo 
cratic,  in  my  notions.  Why  had  I  not  learned  that 
a  more  primitive  mode  of  house-keeping  was,  by 
far,  the  most  desirable  ?  The  less  room  I  had  to 
care  for,  the  more  time  I  should  have  to  be  out 


SATISFACTORY  IMAGININGS.  67 

among  our  people,  and  to  cany  out  many  plans, 
formed  for  helping  George  in  various  ways.  Of 
course  I  must  do  my  own  work,  and  I  would  keep 
my  kitchen  so  nice,  that  he  would  not  object  to 
taking  our  meals  in  it,  especially,  if  I  should  be 
so  fortunate  as  to  find  a  place  with  a  little  shed 
attached,  where  I  could  put  a  stove,  and  do  my 
rough  work.  Then  the  bed-room  could  be  used 
for  a  study.  A  parlor  and  spare  room  would  com 
plete  the  list.  Oh!  yes,  four  rooms  were  all  I 
could  ask.  Indeed,  I  rather  thought  I  wouldn't 
have  more  if  I  could!  This  conclusion  was  a 
great  relief,  and  pleasing  myself  with  imagining 
how  carefully  the  rooms  were  to  be  kept,  and 
what  a  pleasant  spot  I  would  make  it  for  my  hus 
band,  I  slept  sweetly  the  few  hours  that  re 
mained  for  rest. 

"  The  next  morning  I  consulted  with  kind 
Deacon  Blake,  as  to  where  I  should  be  most  likely 
to  find  that  which  I  now  sought.  I  could  see 
plainly  that  he  was  pleased  to  find  that  my  own 
judgment  had  decided  on  less  room  than  I,  at  first, 
considered  indispensable.  Forty  dollars  per  year, 
was  all  I  dared  to  appropriate  for  rent ;  and  oh ! 
mother,  if  you  could  see  all  the  places  I  looked 


68  FROM   DAWN    TO   DAYLIGHT. 

into  that  weary  day !  Why,  father's  cattle  would 
refuse  to  occupy  them,  till  they  had  received  many 
repairs;  and  yet  no  four,  of  even  such  rooms,  could 
be  obtained  for  forty  dollars. 

"  When  I  returned  to  my  boarding-place,  I  was 
{ fully  persuaded  in  my  own  mind '  that  my  £  stick- 
to-a-tiveness,'  as  Harry  used  to  call  it,  was  no  fault, 
but  one  of  the  cardinal  virtues,  of  which,  I  began 
to  fear,  I  had  not  more  than  half  enough ;  for  I 
must  own  I  retired  to  rest,  as  nearly  discouraged 
as  I  ever  remember  to  have  been  in  my  life. 

"  As  I  was  preparing  to  renew  my  search  the 
next  morning,  Deacon  Blake  informed  me,  with 
some  hesitation,  that  perhaps  Mr.  Dudley  could  ac 
commodate  us  with  rooms  over  one  of  his  buildings. 
I  saw  he  was  rather  doubtful  as  to  their  being 
desirable,  but  I  was  very  i  /tumble  '  by  this  time. 

"  My  paper  warns  me  to  close,  and,  like  some  of 
our  fashionable  periodicals,  I  will  leave  you  in  the 
midst  of  my  story,  and  give  you  a  rest  till  my  next, 
which  shall  be  forwarded  as  soon  as  my  household 
cares  will  allow. 

"  With  love  ever  bright  and  steadfast, 
"  Your  affectionate  child, 

"  M.  HERBERT." 


LETTER   TO   HER   MOTHER.  69 

"GLENYILLE,  Nov.  — ,  18 — . 

"  MY  DEAREST  MOTHER  : 

"  Of  course  I  imagine  you  all  impatience  to 
learn  the  finale  of  my  adventures,  and  I  am  quite 
as  anxious  to  give  them,  that  you  may  sooner  be 
able  to  picture  to  yourselves  our  present  situation. 

"  I  went  at  once  to  Mr.  Dudley,  and  found  the 
rooms  had  for  a  long  time  been  used,  simply,  as 
lumber  rooms  for  the  store  adjoining.  They  were 
in  the  second  story,  Mr.  Dudley's  family  occupying 
the  main  building.  He  '  doubted  if  they  would 
suit ;  but  here  wTas  the  key ;  the  lumber  had  all 
been  removed,  and  I  could  examine  for  myself. 
The  rent  would  be  forty  dollars.' 

"  I  was  glad  to  make  the  survey  without  wit 
nesses  ;•  and,  taking  the  key,  I  mounted  the  stairs. 
They  were  low,  and  easy  of  ascent.  That  was 
encouraging,  at  any  rate,  "With  a  beating  heart  I 
entered,  and  closing  the  door,  stood  in  blank  dismay, 
in  the  middle  of  the  room.  "Were  these  dismal, 
horridly  dirty  rooms  to  be  our  home  ?  No,  no ; 
never !  and  my  first  impulse  was  to  leave,  without 
a  second  look.  But  if  not  here,  where  was  I  to 
look  for  anything  better?  I  had  hunted,  faith 
fully,  every  part  of  the  town,  and  this  was  the  only 


"  FROM   DAWN    TO    DAYLIGHT. 

spot  I  liad  found  that  I  could,  with,  any  justice, 
think  of  appropriating.  It  would  do  no  harm  to 
examine  these  rooms  carefully,  and  endeavor  to 
think  calmly,  and  decide  honestly,  uninfluenced  by 
what  others  thought  indispensable,  or  what  I  had 
been  accustomed  to  think  so.  ISTow  was  the  time, 
if  ever,  to  follow  my  dear  mother's  example,  and 
look  '  only  on  the  bright  side.' 

"  The  first  room  was  quite  large ;  but,  oh,  so 
filthy!  But,  patience,  a  good  scrubbing-brush, 
plenty  of  soap  and  water,  and  a  strong  arm,  aided 
by  a  cheerful,  willing  heart,  could  make  wonderful 
changes  in  a  few  hours.  The  walls  were  bare, 
smoke-stained,  and  smeared  with  tobacco;  a  few 
coats  of  whitewash  could  cover  all  impurities. 
The  floors  were  uneven,  and  badly  spotted.  We 
could  not  think  of  carpets ;  but  surely  Mr.  Dudley 
would  paint  the  floors  and  repair  the  broken 
hearth. 

"  There  was  a  good  closet  in  one  corner,  and  a 
cupboard  in  the  other.  That  was  certainly  a  com 
fort. 

"  Things  were  looking  brighter.  I  passed  into 
the  next  room.  It  was  of  the  same  size,  but  so 
immeasurably  dirtier,  that  the  first  became,  by 


DISMAL   PEOSPECTS.  71 

comparison,  quite  passable.  But  I  must  compel 
myself  to  hope,  that  the  same  remedies  of  patience, 
scrubbing-brush  and  soap,  would  '  hide  a  multitude 
of  sins,3  even  here. 

"  A  better  hearth  than  the  first  room  could  boast, 
with  an  opening  over  the  mantel  for  stove-pipe — a 
closet,  with  shelves  covered  with  a  combination  of 
stains  and  dirt,  which  no  chemical  skill  could 
have  separated  or  analyzed,  and  a  rickety  sink, 
might,  by  a  stretch  of  imagination,  be  classed  un 
der  the  comforts,  in  this  forlorn  survey.  However, 
the  two  other  rooms  may  be  in  a  better  condition. 
I  will  not  allow  my  courage  to  fail,  until  I  have 
seen  the  whole.  But  where  are  they  ? 

"  There  was,  indeed,  a  door  in  the  back  room, 
but  it  was  nailed  up,  and  peering  through  the 
key-hole,  I  found  it  opened  into  the  lumber  loft  of 
the  store  adioinins;. 

V  O 

"  The  hall  through  which  I  entered  into  the  two 
rooms  under  deliberation,  divided  them  from  Mrs. 
Dudley's  chambers,  and  there  could  be,  of  course, 
no  other  apartments  in  this  story.  FOUT  rooms 
had  appeared  so  absolutely  necessary,  that  I  had 
never  imagined  it  possible  to  do  with  less.  But 
others,  it  seemed,  had  thought  two  might  be  made 


72  FEOM   DAWN   TO   DAYLIGHT. 

to  answer.  Here  was  a  good  opportunity  to  ex 
amine  my  'high  notions '  (an  expression  I  had  acci 
dentally  heard  used  of  myself,  only  the  day  before), 
and  see  if  they  were  capable  of  further  pruning. 

"  In  no  enviable  state  of  mind,  I  paced  to  and 
fro  many  times  across  this  very  '  Dismal  Swamp,' 
earnestly  endeavoring  to  see  in  what  way  I  could 
contrive,  by  the  utmost  exertion  of  Yankee  ingenu 
ity,  to  make  such  a  den  inhabitable,  or  two  rooms  at 
all  sufficient  for  comfort.  If  it  was  only  for  my- 
self—but  pride  and  affection  both  rebelled,  when  I 
thought  of  my  husband.  I  did  feel  that  he  deserved 
something  better  ;  and  cramped  and  uncomfortable 
apartments  seem  so  much  worse  for  a  man,  than  for 
a  woman,  especially  if  he  is  one  whose  occupa 
tion  calls  for  mental  labor,  that  my  whole  soul  re 
volted.  But  rebellious  thoughts  were  at  once 
checked  by  the  perpetually  recurring  question  :  It 
not  here,  where  else  can  you  turn  ? 

"  I  paused  a  moment  to  look  out  of  the  window, 
hoping,  gloomy  as  was  the  prospect  within,  there 
might  be  cheer  and  amusement  in  the  outward  sur 
roundings.  But  wretchedly  muddy  streets,  lined 
with  very  common-looking  business  houses,  were  all 
the  comfort  that  the  front  view  presented.  The 


OUTWARD    SURROUNDINGS.  Y3 

rear  opened  into  a  back  yard,  quite  spacious 
enough  for  a  handsome  garden.  But  no  such 
blessing  met  the  eye.  It  was  a  dirty  yard,  full  of 
mud-holes,  with  bits  of  staves,  old  barrel  hoops, 
broken  crockery,  worn-out  brooms,  strips  of  scrub- 
cloths,  pieces  of  shoes,  brimless  hats,  and  every 
description  of  rubbish  or  lumber,  scattered  all 
abroad.  A  large  well,  with  an  old-fashioned  curb 
and  windlass,  stood  in  the  centre.  The  yard 
itself  was  a  kind  of  court,  inclosed  by  tenement 
houses  on  three  sides,  into  which  the  spouts  of 
all  the  sinks  of  both  upper  and  lower  stories 
emptied.  The  fourth  side  was  barricaded  by  an 
old  and  much  dilapidated  barn,  and  beyond  this 
court — well,  we  won't  speak  of  the  ( Five  Points  ' 
looking  lanes  beyond ! 

"  Was  not  this  cheering  ?  I  was  glad  to  turn 
back  again  to  the  interior.  One  more  look,  and 
with  a  sigh  I  descended,  and  asked  Mr.  Dudley  for 
the  refusal  of  the  rooms,  till  I  could  consult  my 
husband. 

"  I  then  alluded  to  the  repairs,  but  was  told  that 
for  our  sakes,  he  had  placed  the  rent  so  low,  he 
could  put  no  expense  upon  the  rooms.  So  I  returned 
to  my  boarding-place  (which  never  looked  half  so 

4 


74:  FKOM   DAWN    TO   DAYLIGHT. 

pleasant  before),  to  make  arrangements  to  go  to 
George,  the  next  morning.  He  was  at  a  meeting  in 
a  neighboring  city,  the  one  where  he  had  finished 
his  preparatory  education,  and  had  been  absent 
two  weeks.  The  captain  of  a  boat,  which  passed 
daily  between  Glenville  and  that  place,  would,  I 
knew,  cheerfully  give  me  a  free  passage  to  my  hus 
band.  A  sleepless  night,  and  the  sail  up  the  river, 
the  next  morning,  gave  me  abundant  time  for  un 
disturbed  meditation. 

"  My  chief  anxiety  was  that  George  would  object, 
peremptorily,  to  the  thought  of  such  an  arrange 
ment,  and  by  the  time  I  reached  the  city,  I  had 
contrived  so  many  ways  by  which  the  rooms  could 
be  improved,  that  now  to  abandon  the  idea,  would 
have  been  a  real  disappointment.  Beside,  /knew, 
as  lie  could  not,  without  passing  through  my  last 
week's  experience,  how  hopeless  was  the  attempt  to 
find  anything  more  desirable.  My  courage  had 
risen  with  that  knowledge — and  now  the  hope  of 
bringing  light  out  of  such  darkness,  and  ordei 
from  such  confusion,'  was  quite  exhilarating. 

"  My  husband  was  greatly  surprised  when  he 
saw  me,  and  you  may  be  sure,  still  more  so  when 
he  learned  my  errand.  The  thought  of  but  two 


BEICK   WITHOUT   STEAW.  75 

rooms  did  not  trouble  him  in  the  least,  and  his 
opinion  of  the  capabilities  of  any  one  trained  by 
you,  dear  mother,  is  BO  exalted,  that  the  extreme 
filthiness  of  the  place  gave  him  no  uneasiness. 

"  i  But,  my  dear  Mary,'  said  he,  '  what  are  we 
to  do  for  the  furnishing  ?  I  have  no  doubt  but  you 
will  make  two  rooms,  or  even  one,  a  pleasant  home, 
and  am  quite  sure  that  all  under  your  care  will  be 
sweet  and  clean ;  but,  great  as  is  my  confidence  in 
your  abilities,  I  cannot  believe  that  even  your  inge 
nuity  can  make  "  brick  without  straw,"  or  procure 
the  simplest  articles  for  housekeeping  with  an 
empty  purse.' 

"My  husband's  brother  Frank,  and  his  bride, 
were  with  us,  listening  with  much  amusement  to 
our  conversation,  and  he  said,  laughingly  ; 

" '  Ah !  George,  you  have  asked  a  question, 
now,  which  my  hopeful  sister  will  find  some 
trouble  in  answering.  Will  you  not,  Mary  ?' 

"  '  It  is  a  strong  argument  against  the  arrange 
ment  I  advocate,  I  acknowledge ;  but  the  change 
proposed  is  not  of  our  seeking.  There  is  a  "neces 
sity  laid  upon  us."  "We  cannot  find  a  boarding- 
place.  We  cannot  live  in  the  streets — we  must 
not  embarrass  ourselves  with  debt. 


76  FKOM  DAWN   TO   DAYLIGHT. 

" '  But,  "  where  there  is  a  will,  Providence  will 
open  a  way."  If  we  strive  to  help  ourselves,  and 
are  content  with  the  most  simple  accommodations, 
I  am  confident  God  will  assist  us.  I  confess  I  do 
not  see  how,  as  yet,  very  clearly ;  but  am  so  sure 
of  it — that  I  sincerely  believe  we  ought  to  go  for 
ward,  "  nothing  doubting."  : 

"  '  It  would  be  wicked  to  throw  obstacles  in  the 
way  of  such  faith  and  courage,'  said  our  kind 
brother.  <  Allow  Kate  and  myself  to  aid  you  in 
taking  the  first  step.  Who  knows  but  it  may  pre 
pare  the  way  for  a  second.  "We  would  be  most 
happy  to  present  you  with  a  cooking  stove — that 
being  a  very  important  article  in  house-keeping ; 
unless  you  prefer  the  more  primitive  mode  of 
making  your  coffee — boiling  your  potatoes — frying 
your  ham — and  feeding  your  pig — all  in  one  skillet, 
as  I  have  often  seen  done  in  these  regions.  But 
our  gift  is  encumbered  with  one  proviso,  which 
may  render  it  valueless.' 

" f  Name  it.  I  do  not  fear  to  accept  any  condi 
tions  our  kind  brother  can  make.' 

"  (  You  are  rash,  sister  dear.  But  the  only  return 
I  ask  is  that  my  wife  and  I  shall  be  your  first  invited 
guests  whenever  your  plans  are  fairly  completed.' 


LIGHT  AESAO.  Y7 


"  {  Oh,  thank  you  —  thank  you.  The  visit  will 
only  increase  our  indebtedness  —  nothing,  not 
even  the  stove,  could  gratify  us  more,  for  you  know 
sister  Kate  and  myself  are  almost  twin  sisters.' 

"  '  Well,  Mary,  one  step  is  taken.  Let's  hear 
what  is  to  be  the  next,  for  your  tell-tale  eyes  assure 
me  you  see  light  ahead  ;  though  I  confess,  I  cannot. 
find  my  way  one  inch  beyond  brother's  stove.' 

"  c  To  whom  do  the  few  articles  in  the  room  you 
occupied  in  the  seminary,  belong  ?' 

a  A  hearty  laugh  was  my  first  reply. 

"  c  Oh,  sister  Mary,  did  you  ever  go  into  that 
room,'  said  Kate.  c  Have  you  the  faintest  idea  that 
those  things  can,  by  any  skill,  be  made  useful? 
A  woefully  infirm  table,  three  chairs  still  worse, 
and  one,  I  believe,  minus  a  leg,  for  I  tried  it  once 
to  my  sorrow,  and  the  bed  P 

"  i  If,'  said  my  husband,  laughing,  c  it  has  been 
in  the  room  ever  since  I  vacated  it,  I'll  engage  it 
is  already  claimed  by  occupants,  whose  name  is 
Legion,  and  the  mattress  is  far  more  unfit  for  use. 
Except  my  bookcases,  or  rather  boxes,  there  is  no 
one  thing  in  that  room  that  can  be  good  for  aught 
but  kindling-wood,  else  I  should  not  have  left  them 
there.  You  may  take  my  word  for  that,  my  dear.' 


78  FROM   DAWN   TO    DAYLIGHT. 

" '  "No,  no,  George,  not  even  your  word  should 
deter  me  from  trying  what  can  be  done.  If  I  had 
faith  to  see  those  rooms  which  I  have  told  you  of 
transformed,  I  need  not  doubt  but  we  shall  be  able 
to  purify  anything.  If  you  will  engage  your  old 
washwoman,  to  take  the  articles  into  the  Seminary- 
/ard,  and  do  her  best  toward  cleansing  them,  I 
will  try  to  perfect  her  labors  myself,  when  we  get 
them  to  Glenville.  Capt.  James  has  promised  to 
land  all  we  may  wish  to  send,  and  ourselves,  at  the 
wharf,  close  by  our  home,  without  charge.  Thus, 
you  see,  this  may  prove  another  step,  and  if  you 
will  be  willing  to  purchase  the  stove  to-day,  which 
Frank  kindly  offers,  and  hasten  our  arrangements  as 
much  as  possible,  I  imagine  we  shall  find  our  light 
shining  brighter  and  brighter,  as  we  proceed ;  I  long 
to  show  our  good  brother  and  sister  how  short  a  time 
it  will  take  to  make  your  old  things  look  c  ain  maist 
as  weel  as  new,'  and  also  to  convince  them  that  it 
takes  but  a  very,  very  little  to  make  a  pleasant  home.' 

" c  But,  sister  mine,'  said  Kate,  £  what  are  the 
prospects  for  crockery,  beds  (for  your  treasure  is 
only  a  single  bed),  kitchen  utensils,  etc  ?' 

" c  I'll,  show  you,'  replied  my  husband,  taking 
out  his  purse,  and  holding  up  fifty  cents. 


A   YANKEE   TRADE.  79 

" f  As  Mary  has  made  arrangements  for  our  pas 
sage  home,  she  shall  have  what  was  to  have  paid 
mine,  toward  her  house  furnishing.  That's  every 
cent  in  prospect,  for  six  weeks  to  come.  Say, 
May  bird,  have  you  a  magic  ring,  that  will  mul 
tiply  this  little  bit  of  silver  into  gold,  or  bank-bills, 
sufficient  for  our  present  need  ?' 

"  In  reply,  I  laid  into  his  hand  thirty  dollars  in 
gold  !  "What  a  look  ! 

"  £  Where  in  the  wide  world  did  you  get  this,  • 
Mary,  and  how  ?' 

"  l  Honestly,  my  good  husband,  if  you  will  allow 
me  to  answer  your  last  question  first,  for  you 
look  very  much  as  if  you  feared  I  had  been 
pilfering.  You  must  not  look  grave,  however, 
when  I  tell  you  all  about  it.  You  know,  I  have 
never  used  the  handsome  cloak  father  gave  me, 
just  before  we  left  New  England.  My  shawl  and 
travelling  cloak  are  more  in  keeping  with  our  pre 
sent  means.  I  know  father  would  rather  I  sold  it, 
for  a  good  price,  than  be  in  debt  for  a  moment. 
Mrs.  Turner  wanted  the  cloak,  and  I  wanted  the 
money,  so  we  swapped.  How  could  a  Yankee 
help  it  when  so  good  an  opportunity  offered  ? 


80  FROM  DAWN   TO   DAYLIGHT. 

And  now,  my  good  sister,  do  you  not  see  that  we 
shall  do  "  excellently  well?"  ' 

"We  were  to  dine  at  Gov.  Koberts',  an  old  and 
tried  friend  of  George's,  and  Frank  insisted  that 
we  should  stop  and  purchase  the  stove  on  the  way  ; 
which  we  accordingly  did,  to  the  entire  satisfaction 
of  all  concerned. 

"At  the  dinner-table,  Kate  entertained  our 
friends  with  some  account  of  our  morning's  dis 
cussions,  and,  though  I  did  not  think  of  it  at  the 
time,  I  suspect  the  kind-hearted  girl  had  a  benevo 
lent  object  in  view,  for  on  leaving,  Mrs.  Koberts 
took  me  up  to  her  attic,  saying,  she  wished  for  the 
pleasure  of  lending  a  helping  hand,  and  gave  me  a 
bureau,  a  pair  of  brass  andirons,  shovel  and  tongs, 
with  which,  said  she,  <I  began  housekeeping, 
more  than  forty  years  ago.' 

"My  heart  was  so  full  I  could  not  speak.  All 
the  darkness  and  uncertainty  fled  from  before  such 
unexpected  kindness,  and,  like  Joseph  of  old,  I 
wished  for  some  c  place  where  to  weep,'  for  very 
gladness.  ISTor  was  this  all.  When  we  parted,  my 
kind  friend  said,  '  Let  me  claim  a  mother's  privi 
lege,  and  advise  you  to  rest  the  remainder  of  the 


INCREASING-   RICHES.  81 

afternoon,  and  leave  all  other  arrangements  for  to 
morrow,  because  I  think  Mrs.  Watson  and  Mrs. 
Reeves  (two  ladies  who  dined  with  us,  and  old 
friends  of  George's)  are  intending  to  send  you  a 
package  in  the  evening.  It  is  possible  it  may  con 
tain  some  things  you  would  think  best  to  purchase, 
were  you  to  go  shopping  on  your  way  back  to  your 
brother's  boarding  place.' 

"  There  was  little  danger  of  our  doing  much  in 
that  line,  but  I  felt  her  kindness  none  the  less,  and 
left  her  with  warm  thanks  and  love. 

"  As  we  passed  beyond  the  gate,  Frank 
smilingly  inquired :  c  "What  could  have  transpired 
while  you  and  good  Mrs.  Roberts  were  up-stairs  ? 
Your  eyes  were  so  full  of  tears,  as  you  returned, 
1  should  have  suspected  you  had  been  annoyed  in 
some  way,  were  it  not  for  the  smile  on  your  lips. 
So  I  hope  you  have  taken  step  number  three, 
toward  our  visit.  You  see  how  selfish  I  am.' 

"  I  informed  them  of  my  increasing  riches — and 
also  that  Mrs.  Roberts  would  send  them  all  to  the 
landing,  on  the  morrow,  and  perhaps  meet  us 
there,  to  say  good  bye. 

"  The  articles  from  the  other  ladies — to  which 
Mrs.  Roberts  alluded — came,  just  as  our  lamps 


82  FROM   DAWN   TO   DAYLIGHT. 

were  lighted,  after  tea,  and  our  good  friends 
would  have  had  no  doubt  of  our  appreciation  of 
their  kindness,  could  they  have  seen  the  pleasure 
with  which  they  were  examined. 

"  There  were  two  good  woollen  blankets,  a  new 
comforter — one  white  spread,  and  a  pretty  patch 
work.  Two  pairs  of  sheets  and  pillow  cases, 
two  table-cloths  and  half  dozen  napkins  and  towels. 
A  half  dozen  knives  and  forks.  Some  German 
silver  spoons — an  old  fashioned  Britannia  tea  and 
water  pot,  in  excellent  condition,  and  quite  neat  in 
style — a  pair  of  plated  candle-stick  snuffers  and 
tray,  etc.  etc. 

"  Yerily  our  cup  runneth  over,  and  we,  surely, 
shall  not  want  for  any  good  thing. 

"  When  the  survey  was  completed.  Sister  Kate 
remarked,  c  I  must  say  this  looks  exceedingly  like 
an  early  invitation  to  Glenville — and  I  shall  be 
all  anxiety,  to  see  you  on  board  to-morrow,  that 
you  may  expedite  your  renovating,  and  purifying 
plans,  and  thus  hasten  our  advent,  for  I  shall  not  rest 
till  I  see  this  new  home,  and  judge  for  myself  of 
your  success.' 

"  I  will  not  linger  longer,  my  dear  friends.  It 
is  all  so  new  and  interesting  to  me,  that  I  forget 


MAKY  FRIENDS.  83 

that  1  may  be  making  my  narrative  very  tedious 
to  you.     In  my  next  I  will  but  give  you  a  few 
more  items — and  introduce  you  to  OUT  home, 
"  Till  then,  farewell, 

"  Lovingly,  yours  always, 

"M.  HERBERT.* 


CHAPTEE    VI. 

AT   HOME. 

OUR  friends  found  Mrs.  Roberts  at  the  boat 
when  they  reached  it,  with  a  large  hamper  of 
groceries — tea,  coffee,  sugar,  and  spices;  several 
jars  of  sweetmeats,  a  box  of  butter,  some  hams? 
soap  and  starch,  etc.,  just  for  a  beginning;  and  as 
she  said  "  good  bye,"  she  left  a  note  in  Mary's 
hand,  which,  on  opening,  contained  twenty-five 
dollars,  and  these  words  :  "  A  love-token,  from  one 
who  has  long  esteemed  you  for  your  husband's 
sake,  and  is  now  sure  to  do  so  for  your  own." 

"Who  ever  felt  so  rich  as  our  young  couple? 
They  had  written  and  engaged  the  rooms  the  day 
before,  and  on  landing  went  at  once  to  see  them, 
and  take  the  preparatory  steps  for  cleaning  and 
furnishing  them. 

Mr.  Herbert  was  evidently  not  prepared  for  the 
worst,  and  had  no  faith  that  any  labor  could  make 
them  decent.  But  it  was  now  too  late  for  repin- 

81 


PREPARING-   A  HOME.  85 

ing — it  was  Wednesday  morning,  or  rather  almost 
noon,  and  they  were  determined  to  be  "  settled  " 
by  Saturday  night. 

Brushes,  soap  and  whitewash  were  procured,  and 
they  both  went  to  work  "  with  a  will."  The  gen 
tleman  was,  at  first,  a  little  awkward  in  the  use 
of  the  brush,  but  Mary  found  him,  on  the  whole, 
a  most  able  and  docile  pupil. 

They  went  over  the  rooms  many,  many  times, 
before  the  most  disgusting  stains  could  be  oblite 
rated.  But  patient  industry  can  accomplish  won 
ders,  and  soon  the  walls  began  to  look  almost 
white,  and  the  wood-work  disclose  the  original 
color  of  the  paint. 

"  If  we  could  only  get  this  floor  painted  it  would 
save  us  time,  and  much  hard  scrubbing."  And 
George  determined  to  see  Mr.  Dudley,  and  endea 
vor  to  persuade  him  to  have  it  done.  "No." 
"  Well,  then,  we  will  do  it  ourselves."  "  No, 
no,"  his  idea  was  that  floors  were  injured  l)y 
paint,  and  he  never  allowed  it  on  any  of  his  tene 
ments  I 

"Never  mind,"  said  Mary,  when  her  husband 
told  her  the  result  of  the  application ;  "  there  is 
this  comfort,  it  will  be  growing  better  all  the  time, 


86  FROM   DAWN   TO   DAYLIGHT. 

and  I  doubt  not,  a  few  weeks'  care  will  make  it 
quite  white  and  free  from  stains.  A  carpet  now, 
would  be  quite  an  institution;  but,  as  we  can't 
have  one,  we'll  just  imagine  that  carpets  are  as 
injurious  as  brother  Dudley  considers  paint  to  be." 

"Well,  it  is  Saturday  morning,  all  must  be  in 
order  by  noon,  that  the  young  housekeepers  may 
sit  down  to  their  first  meal  in  their  "  own  hired " 
rooms,  and  feel  that  there  is  nothing  to  interfere 
with  the  enjoyment  of  the  Sabbath. 

Mr.  Herbert's  books  have  been  carefully  dusted, 
their  cases  washed  and  polished,  and  he  has 
arranged  them,  while  Mary,  with  various  kinds  of 
purifying  lotions,  has  been  busy  over  the  college 
articles,  in  the  back  yard. 

The  old  mattress  had  been  taken  to  pieces,  the 
hair  carefully  washed  and  picked,  a  new  tick  pro 
vided,  and  the  whole  reconstructed  by  good  mother 
Reed,  in  whom  Mary  had  been  so  much  interested 
at  her  first  interview.  A  young  carpenter  had 
volunteered  to  repair  the  broken  chairs,  and  fur 
nishing  Mrs.  Herbert  with  the  material,  she  had 
varnished  her  simple  furniture  herself. 

The  last  touches  have  been  given,  and  the  young 
wife  puts  on  a  neat  wrapper  and  prepares  the  table 


THE   FIKST   DINNEK.  87 

for  dinner.  Friends  from  among  their  people  have 
so  bountifully  supplied  her  with  all  manner  of  food, 
that  she  will  have  little  opportunity  to  display  her 
own  skill  for  some  days  to  come. 

She  carefully  surveys  her  table  when  all  is 
ready,  her  smile  betokening  great  satisfaction,  and 
then  throws  open  the  door  into  the  front  room, 
where  her  husband,  having  finished  his  task, 
stands,  with  glistening  eyes,  admiring  its  tidy  and 
already  homelike  appearance.  He  meets  her  as 
she  enters,  and  passing  his  arm  fondly  around  her 
waist,  whispers,  "  My  own  Mary,  can  this  comfort 
able  abode  be  the  same  we  looked  upon  not  four 
days  since  3" 

But  we  will  step  aside  and  leave  Mrs.  Herbert 
to  describe  its  present  appearance  : 

"  GLENVILLE,  Nov.  28,  18 — . 

"  MY  DEAK  MOTHER  : 

"  If  you  could  only  look  in  upon  us  now  ! 
It  is  our  first  evening  £  at  home?  George  is  before 
his  study  table  preparing  for  to-morrow's  (Sabbath) 
duties,  and  I  sit  at  one  side,  with  so  much  to  tell, 
yet  almost  too  happy  to  write. 

"You  have  not  forgotten  my  description  of 


88  FEOM  DAWN   TO   DAYLIGHT. 

these  rooms,  as  I  first  saw  them — and  I  want  you 
to  bear  it  in  mind,  as  I  proceed.  I  closed  my  last 
letter  with  the  account  of  our  finished  arrange 
ments  to  leave  the  city,  and  return  to  Glenville." 

(It  is  not  necessary  to  repeat,  what  has  already 
been  told — so  we  drop  that  part  of  the  letter — and 
begin  with  her  description  of  the  present  appear 
ance  of  the  place.) 

"  And  now,  my  dear  friends,  please  follow  me, 
once  more,  into  this  front  room.  Make  yourselves 
perfectly  at  home — and  use  your  eyes  as  freely  as 
you  choose.  No  fear  that  I  shall  consider  it 
impertinent  curiosity. 

"  "Where  shall  I  begin  to  show  you  the  glories 
of  my  house.  "With  its  chief  joy,  I  think — my  hus 
band.  Look  at  him,  my  mother — as  he  sits  in  that 
comfortable  study-chair — his  whole  mind  intent 
upon  the  subject  before  him.  May  I  not  be  proud 
of  him,  if  I  hide  it  deep  in  my  own  heart — where 
none,  but  the  dear  home  friends,  can  see  it  ?  Is  he 
not  one  to  lean  upon,  and  trust  in  every  emer 
gency  ?  May  I  not  be  assured  that  all  my  imper 
fections  will  be  met  with  kindness,  gentleness,  and 
forbearance  ?  So  far,  it  has  been  so,  even  beyond 
my  wildest  hopes — and  who  can  look  at  him,  and 


THE    STUDY.  &9 

fear  any  change  ?  "Will  it  not  be  easy  to  encounter 
trials  and  deprivations,  or  rather  will  they  not 
cease  to  be  such,  in  the  endeavor  to  create  a  happy 
home  for  him  ? 

"  But  I  must  not  forget  politeness  to  my  guests, 
or  linger  by  his  side,  just  now. 

"  How  do  yon  like  this  study-table,  Harry  ?  .  Is 
it  not  'just  the  thing!'  I  varnished  it  myself, 
and  covered  the  top  with  that  nice,  black  cloth. 
Almost  too  good  for  the  purpose,  do  you  say,  dear 
mother  ?  But  do  not  accuse  me  of  extravagance. 
It  is  not  new — nor  is  it  the  i  skirt  of  Saul's  coat ;' 
but  a  piece  which  I  found  in  my  husband's  dilapi 
dated  wardrobe. 

"  And  what  think  you  of  this  new  fashioned 
bookcase,  fastened  to  the  back  of  the  table? 
It  is  a  discarded  dish  closet,  which  the  last 
occupant  of  this  room  had  thrown  into  the  back 
yard,  as  utterly  worthless.  George  nailed  together 
the  broken  parts  and  painted  it,  and  now  I  think  it 
looks  quite  stylish. 

"  The  long  boxes  made  expressly  to  pack  books 
in — when  Mr.  Herbert  first  came  "West,  to  finish 
his  education — have  been  well  scoured,  varnished, 
and  now,  set  one  atop  the  other,  open  side  out 


90  FKOM   DAWN  TO   DAYLIGHT. 

and  filled  with  the  books  purchased  by  his  own 
labors  while  in  college,  make,  I  am  sure  you. 
will  say,  very  imposing  bookcases. 

"  In  the  middle  of  the  room,  you  perceive,  we 
have  a  few  yards  of  cotton  carpeting,  which  were 
found  in  the  famous  bundle  given  us,  by  the  kind 
friends,  of  whom  I  told  you  in  my  last. 

"It  is  not  ornamental,  but  will  save  quite  a 
good  deal  of  scrubbing. 

"  A  simple,  stained  bed-stead,  comes  next  in 
order,  with  its  husk  mattress,  and  pillows  of  the 
same  material  (feathers,  you  know,  are  enervating 
— but  this  is  cool  and  healthful),  and  the  pure  white 
spread,  give  it  quite  a  genteel  air,  which  last  is 
of  marvellous  importance  to  our  peace  of  mind. 

"  Next,  dear  kind  Mrs.  Roberts'  bureau — all 
that  we  need,  and  with  containing  powers  of 
almost  unlimited  capacity.  A  fifty  cent  glass  is 
quite  large  enough  to  show  us  our  faces  once  a  day 
— and  being  a  little  hazy  and  uneven,  we  shall 
have  10  temptation  to  a  needless  expenditure  of 
time. 

"  That  pretty,  simple,  work  stand,  in  the  corner, 
dear  mother,  is  a  present  from  George ;  bought 
with  the  little  gold  badge  of  his  college  society 


MUCH   IN  LITTLE.  91 

"  These  large,  bright  andirons,  shovel  and  tongs, 
are  almost  too  magnificent,  beside  our  other 
furnishing  ;  but  we  are  grateful  for  them,  notwith 
standing,  and  should  miss  them  sadly,  if  they 
were  withdrawn,  not  only  for  their  usefulness,  but 
because  they  remind  us  so  much  of  the  dear  old 
parlor  at  £  Hill  Farm.' 

"  A  clock,  two  plated  candlesticks,  snuffer  and 
tray,  and  a  brass  lamp,  which  has  lighted  my  hus 
band's  studies  ever  since  he  was  in  college,  are 
our  mantel  ornaments,  and  four  new  wooden-seated 
chairs  and  a  pine  dining-tablc,  complete  the  list  of 
the  furniture  in  this,  our  principal  room.  In  the 
cupboard,  may  be  seen  a  neat  set  of  white  ware 
(not  ample — but  answering  all  our  wants  and  leav 
ing  some  spare  pieces  for  such  guests  as  can  be 
content  with  few  changes),  a  Britannia  tea  and 
water-pot  and  our  German  silver  spoons.  The 
little  closet,  behisd  the  study  table,  has  abundant 
room  for  my  small  stock  of  bed  and  table  linen. 

"This  room,  you  will  perceive,  is  parlor,  study, 
dining-room,  bed-chamber,  and  anything  else  we 
may  find  it  necessary  to  call  it. 

"  Let  me  introduce  you,  now,  to  the  adjoining 
apartment. 


yz  FROM    DAWN   TO   DAYLIGHT. 

"  And  first,  brother  Frank's  gift,  our  stove,  with 
all  its  bright  tin  furnishing ;  second,  the  despised 
college  and  seminary  bedstead,  in  the  far  corner, 
shining  with  fresh  paint  and  varnish,  and  rejoic 
ing  in  a  new,  or  rather,  a  clean  mattress.  I  have 
put  some  curtains  around  it,  of  fourpenny  calico, 
which  was,  with  other  blessings,  in  Mrs.  Robert's 
basket.  It  looks  like  a  simple  curtained  bed,  does 
it  not  ?  Look  behind  the  curtains  and  learn  what 
it  is,  when  not  put  to  its  legitimate  use.  By  the 
garments  pinned  to  that  strong  band  around  the 
top,  you  perceive  it  can  be  converted  easily  into  a 
wardrobe,  for  clothes-closets  are  not  fashionable 
here.  On  the  bed,  are  the  bonnet  and  hat-boxes, 
clothes-basket,  etc.;  and  underneath,  our  trunks, 
packed  with  such  articles  as  are  not  for  immediate  use. 

"  "Now,  say  you'll  remain  with  us  through  the 
night,  and  see  how  quickly  these  articles  w^ill  be 
folded  and  placed  in  the  basket,  and  put  with  the 
trunks — out  "of  sight — and  the  bed  prepared  for 
ourselves,  while  we  give  you  possession  of  study, 
parlor,  and  bed-chamber.  Surely  no  guest  can 
wish  for  more  ample  accommodation. 

"  The  closet  for  kitchen  utensils ;  the  three  old 
chairs,  made  new  by  paint ;  the  sink,  with  a  new 


KITCHEN   AND    CELLAR.  93 

leg  and  spout,  the  cracks  filled  with  putty  and 
neatly  painted,  and  a  cover  which  can  be  buttoned 
back,  when  the  sink  is  needed,  or  let  down  and  used 
as  an  ironing  or  bread  board,  at  suitable  times  • 
these  need  no  explanation.  But  can  you  guess  what 
is  hidden  in  this  angle  of  the  room,  under  a  curtain 
of  that  same  cheap  calico  ?  Look !  overhead,  a 
wooden  bar  is  nailed,  as  you  perceive,  across  which 
are  hung  a  saddle,  bridle,  buffalo-skin,  and  a  pair 
of  saddle-bags,  which  have  been  given  my  husband 
for  travelling.  (Don't  look  for  the  horse  there, 
Johnny;  George  must  borrow  that  when  he  goes 
to  Presbytery  meetings.)  Under  these,  on  the  floor, 
you  see  a  barrel  of  flour,  one  of  potatoes,  washtubs, 
clothes-boiler,  and  a  box  of  soap.  Garret,  cellar,  and 
store-closet  all  in  one.  Who  can  be  so  unreason 
able  as  to  ask  for  more  room  ?  Not  I. 

"  Tims,  my  dear  ones,  we  are  fairly  at  housekeep 
ing,  provided  with  everything  necessary  for  comfort, 
and  a  few  dollars  left  in  the  purse,  to  make  us  feel 
independent.  WQ  have  now  "begun  life  for  ourselves. 
How  much  toil,  sickness,  and  sorrow  are  before  us, 
it  is  well  we  cannot  foresee,  and  it  would  be  folly  to 
make  the  attempt.  "We  have  only  one  day  at  a 
time  to  live,  and  with  cheerful  courage,  unswerving 


y*  FROM   DAWN    TO    DAYLIGHT. 

love  and  confidence  in  each  other,  and  trust  in 
God,  we  can,  surely,  meet  all  that  each  day  brings. 
Therefore,  dear  mother,  do  not  be  anxious  for  your 
children.  I  cannot,  nor  can  you,  expect  my  life 
will  be  all  sunshine  ;  but  I  do  believe,  if  I  do  my 
duty,  I  shall  find  quite  as  much  of  real  happiness 
as  those  whom  the  world  calls  rich. 

"We  shall  this  evening  send  our  invitation  to 
brother  Frank  and  wife,  for  I  long,  exceedingly,  to 
show  them  how  pleasantly  and  comfortably  we  are 
situated. 

"  Good  night.     With  earnest  love  for  you  all, 


Early  the  next  week,  the  brother  and  sister  made 
the  promised  visit.  Mrs.  Herbert  was  an  entire 
stranger  to  all  her  husband's  family ;  but  the  ex 
tremely  pleasant  interview  with  these  two  friends, 
while  making  their  present  arrangements,  had 
prepared  her  to  expect  great  enjoyment  from  this 
reunion. 

And  four  happier  persons  the  sun  seldom  shines 
upon,  than  are  now  gathered  in  this  neat  and  simple 
home.  The  brothers  are  congenial  spirits,  knit  to 
gether,  like  David  and  Jonathan,  in  the  strongest 


BROTHERS   AND    SISTERS.  95 

affection.  Frank  is  taller  and  more  slender  than 
George,  with  less  appearance  of  robust  health ;  but 
still,  the  resemblance  between  the  brothers  is  very 
striking,  in  character  as  well  as  personal  appear 
ance.  Both  are  heartily  devoted  to  the  work  in 
which  they  are  engaged.  Both  exhibit,  in  a  very 
uncommon  degree,  great  earnestness  and  manli 
ness,  with  almost  womanly  delicacy  and  gentleness. 
A  combination  rarely  met  with,  but  exceedingly 
precious  when  found. 

Never  was  there  a  greater  contrast  than  the 
sisters — Kate  was  considerably  above  the  medium 
height.  A  fine  figure,  easy  and  dignified  manners, 
and'  glossy  black  hair,  sufficient  to  wrap  her  as  in 
a  mantle,  fine  open  brow,  eyes  black  as  night,  beau 
tifully  tender  in  her  softer  moods,  but  flashing 
grandly,  if  wrong  was  to  be  redressed,  or  a  noble 
deed  performed.  Highly  educated,  and  nurtured 
in  affluence,  she  will  be  an  invaluable,  intellectual 
companion  for  her  husband,  more  so  than  Mary, 
but  probably  not  as  capable  of  patient  endurance, 
or  physical  exertion. 

Mary's  figure  wras  larger,  and  not  so  graceful  01 
dignified,  and  her  educational  advantages  had  been 
far  inferior.  She  was  inclined  to  grieve  over  this, 


96  FEOM  DAWN  TO   DAYLIGHT. 

fearing  that  she  might  not  prove,  in  all  things,  such 
a  wife  as  her  loving  heart  believed  her  husband 
must  deserve.  Her  ardent  desire  for  a  thorough 
education  had  caused  her  to  place,  perhaps,  too 
light  an  estimate  on  domestic  qualifications,  while 
she  imagined  that  talent,  and  a  high  order  of  in 
tellect,  were  indispensably  requisite  for  a  clergy 
man's  wife. 

Her  hair  was  of  a  dark  chestnut,  folded  neatly 
round  a  well-shaped  head,  with  a  low  brow,  blue 
eyes,  and  clear,  rosy  complexion.  As  her  husband 
marks  the  affectionate  greeting,  and  loving  earnest 
ness,  with  which  she  receives  her  guests,  his  eyes 
rest  tenderly  upon  her,  and  no  one  can  doubt,  but 
he,  at  least,  is  abundantly  satisfied. 

"  Why,  sister  mine,"  said  Kate,  as  she  was 
placed  in  a  most  comfortable  easy-chair,  "  this  is 
altogether  too  luxurious.  I  thought  there  was  to 
be  nothing  but  the  simplest  and  most  absolute 
necessaries.  I  fear  I  shall  be  obliged  to  lecture 
you  upon  extravagance,  at  the  very  beginning." 

"First  hear  my  defence,  most  gracious  lady. 
You  are  seated  in  that  old  arm-chair,  found  in  my 
husband's  bachelor  sanctum,  which  you  assured 
me  was  only  fit  for  burning.  George  has  made  a 


THE  BBOTHER'S  VISIT.  97 

high  back  to  it  by  nailing  on  a  board,  and  I 
have  stuffed  it  into  shape,  and  covered  it  with 
an  old  dress,  too  short  for  me,  found  in  that 
inexhaustible  basket  of  mother  Eoberts.  Am  I 
acquitted,  madam?" 

"Most  fully,"  said  Kate,  rising.  "But  don't 
think  I  am  going  to  sit  still,  before  you  have 
shown  me  all  over  your  premises." 

"That  will  not  occupy  much  time,"  replied 
George,  opening  the  door  between  the  two  rooms  ; 
"  but,  I  doubt  if  you  will  find  more  true  comfort  in 
the  abodes  of  wealth,  or  more  grateful  hearts  than 
are  contained  in  these  two  homely  rooms." 

The  survey  was  made,  great  pleasure  expressed, 
enlivened  by  many  sportive  and  affectionate  re 
marks,  and  then  Mary  excused  herself  to  pre 
pare  for  dinner. 

These  "  simple  annals  "  may  prove  tiresome  to 
my  readers,  and  perhaps  I  linger  foolishly;  but 
there  is  something  inexpressibly  sweet  in  recalling 
incidents  connected  with  the  earlier  life  of  these 
four  young  friends.  Yery  dear  were  they  all  to 
my  heart,  and  many  times,  in  after  years,  have  I 
seen  Mary's  care-worn  face  light  up  with  almost 
the  freshness  of  its  bridal  bloom,  as  she  recalled 
5 


98  FROM   DAWN   TO   DAYLIGHT. 

for  lier  children  the  pleasures  of  her  earliest  experi 
ments  in  house-keeping,  and  these  narrations 
always  closed  writh  the  assertion,  that  no  part  of 
her  married  life  was  so  distinctly  fixed  in  memory 
as  that  first  visit  from  Frank  and  Kate. 

Life,  to  those  who  then  assembled  around  that 
neat  and  generous  board,  was  full  of  most  cheerful 
anticipations.  They  knew  that  sorrow  and  disap 
pointment  were  common  to  all ;  but  why  need  they 
dread  them,  while  hoping  to  labor  and  endure  to 
gether  ? 

"  Sorrow  and  disappointment"  were  vague  terms 
to  them  in  these  bright  days.  It  takes  experience 
to  give  them  a  definite  meaning.  Happy  are  those 
who  do  not  seek  to  understand  the  future,  till  the 
Providence  of  God  unfolds  it,  and  at  the  same 
time  gives  the  strength  and  grace  to  endure  what 
ever  it  may  bring. 


CHAPTEE  VII. 


SOME  three  months  have  flown  rapidly  away.  Lit 
tle  has  passed  to  disturb  the  quiet  happiness  of  our 
friends.  A  few  trials,  such  as  are  common  to  all 
faithful  pastors,  have  fallen  upon  Mr.  Herbert,  but 
in  general,  his  labors  have  been  uncommonly  ac 
ceptable,  and  his  audience  so  increased,  as  to  make 
the  little  church  uncomfortably  full — a  state  of 
things  unknown  before. 

Some  have  held  off  to  see  whereunto  this  will 
grow — a  few  prophets  of  evil  affirmed  that  two  or 
three  months  more  would  suffice  to  exhibit  all  the 
new  preacher's  "college  learning  "  and  then — "but  the 
community,  as  a  wrhole,  were  satisfied  that  Mr.  Her 
bert  would  become  more  and  more  popular  and 
useful  as  months  pass  by. 

Mary,  of  course,  found  her  share  of  trials — more, 
perhaps,  than  her  husband — of  those  little  things 


100  FKOM   DAWN   TO   DAYLIGHT. 

which  sting  like  nettles,  and  yet  make  one  ashamed 
of  the  consciousness  that  such  trifles  have  any 
power  to  vex  or  annoy.  It  is  a  curious  fact,  that 
fault-finding  parishioners  are  generally  too  cowardly 
to  attack  a  clergyman  himself,  and  therefore  when 
they  wish  to  show  their  displeasure  and  punish  him, 
they  contrive  to  do  it  by  throwing  trifling  vexations 
in  the  way  of  his  wife.  But,  if  the  husband,  either 
through  misjudged,  or  unguarded  friendships,  or 
through  fear  of  his  people,  is  ever  tempted  to  listen 
to  these  petty  words  of  censure  or  complaint  from 
others,  then  woe  be  to  that  wife !  It  is  an  evil  which 
creeps  upon  a  man  insidiously,  but  it  will  never 
theless  undermine  all  true  happiness,  and,  when 
once  admitted,  there  is  no  escape  in  life.  The 
grave  is  the  only  refuge  from  the  sorrow  which  will 
surely  flow  from  it,  and  happy  is  she  who  in  such 
circumstances,  is  early  permitted  to  repose  therein. 
In  the  present  case,  however,  while  each  main 
tained  full  confidence  in  the  other,  there  was  little 
danger  of  serious  harm  from  such  attacks. 

Mary  soon  learned  that  it  would  be  impossible 
for  their  salary  to  support  them,  even  with  the 
most  rigid  economy.  That  their  church  did  all  they 
could,  for  the  present,  they  had  no  reason  to  doubt. 


VISIT    TO   MKS.    REED. 


But  some  way  must  be  devjsed  'to  add  a 
least,  to  their  means.  She  had  not  uninterrupted 
leisure  sufficient  to  teach,  even  if  the  place  could 
furnish  pupils,  without  withdrawing  them  from 
those  who  needed  the  income  still  more  than  they 
did.  Sewing  was  the  only  way  opened,  and  to  that 
Mr.  Herbert,  at  first,  resolutely  objected.  Not 
long,  however,  for  he  could  not  but  see  the  neces 
sity  for  it,  and,  before  spring,  they  were  indebted 
to  his  wife's  nimble  fingers,  for  many  com 
forts. 

She  would  have  grieved  had  her  mother  known 
that  her  longed-for  home  letters,  were  often  detained 
in  the  office  till  she  could  earn  the  twenty-five  cents 
(postage  at  that  time)  with  which  to  release  them, 
or  that  she  had  sewed  late  into  the  night,  to  procure 
their  dinner  the  next  day.  This  last,  not  often, 
however,  for  provisions  were,  for  -the  most  part, 
abundant,  and  fabulously  cheap. 

One  stormy  afternoon  in  February  Mr.  Herbert 
came  home  and  asked  his  wife  if  she  thought  it 
would  be  safe  for  her  to  venture  out  to  see  Mrs. 
Reed,  who  was  considered  dangerously  ill.  Mrs. 
Herbert  made  no  delay  in  preparing  for  the 
walk,  for  their  first  acquaintance  had  matured 


102       ,  V  :  tfKoii  TDAWN  TO  DAYLIGHT. 


ihft/'  strong  affection,  and  the  fear  of  losing  this 
dear  friend  was  exceedingly  painful. 

They  found  Mrs.  Eeed  rapidly  sinking,  and  Dr. 
Strong,  who  was  present,  felt  that  she  would  pro 
bably  pass  away  before  morning.  She  had  long 
been  feeble,  though  she  never  complained  ;  but 
was  ever  busy  for  herself  or  others.  Mr.  and 
Mrs.  II.  were  greatly  surprised,  therefore,  when  the 
physician  informed  them  that  he  had  known  for 
months  that  she  was  in  a  hopeless  condition,  and 
she  had  also  been  fully  aware  of  it,  herself. 

Mrs.  Herbert  decided,  at  once,  to  remain  and 
watch  with  her  friend,  and  the  patient  sufferer's 
look  of  affectionate  gratitude,  was  reward  sufficient, 
had  any  been  needed.  After  a  prayer,  her  hus 
band  returned  home,  leaving  her  to  make  such  ar 
rangements  as  were  necessary  before  Dr.  Strong 
left. 

The  house  was  a  miserable  concern,  and  very  des 
titute  of  comforts.  Passing  from  the  dingy  and 
poorly  ventilated  sick-room,  to  the  little  shed,  used 
for  a  kitchen,  Mrs.  Herbert  was  startled,  almost  be 
yond  her  self-control,  by  some  dark  object  stretched 
before  the  door.  Hastening  back,  she  quietly  beck 
oned  the  doctor  outside.  "What  is  that?  "she 


THE    WORTHLESS    HUSBAND.  103 

whispered,  fearfully.  He  bent  over  tlie  object — 
"  Oh,  Pshaw  !  that's  only  old  Reed,  come  home,  as 
usual,  drunk  as  a  beast." 

"  "Why !  Dr.  Strong,  you  astonish  me.  I  have 
always  supposed  Mrs.  Eeed  was  a  widow." 

"  Oh,  no.  If  she  were  she  might  have  been  very 
differently  situated.  I  understand,  now,  why  the 
poor  woman  has  failed  so  rapidly.  He  has,  proba 
bly,  just  returned  from  one  of  his  longest  tramps, 
to  wring  from  her  more  of  her  hard  earnings.  No 
wonder  you  thought  her  a  widow.  He  leaves 
her,  months  at  a  time,  and  only  comes  back  when 
he  can  no  longer  obtain  money  elsewhere  to  waste 
in  debauchery.  He  has  been  gone  now  more  than 
a  year,  and  we  all  hoped  that  he  would  trouble  her  no 
more.  The  villain !  he  deserves  hanging.  But  you, 
my  dear  madam,  must  return  to  our  patient,  or  she 
will  be  troubled  at  your  absence.  I  will  mean 
while  get  some  one  to  assist  me  in  putting  this  mis 
erable  being  aside  for  the  night,  where  you  will 
not  be  disturbed  or  alarmed  by  him." 

"  Poor  Mrs.  Reed !"  said  Mary,  "  when  I  first 
saw  her,  I  thought  there  was  an  aching  heart  hid 
den  beneath  that  gentle,  subdued  demeanor." 

When   she   returned,  she    perceived  that  Mrs. 


104  FKOM   DAWN   TO   DAYLIGHT. 

Heed  understood  her  motive,  in  calling  the  doctor 
out ;  but  not  a  word  wras  spoken,  alluding  to  it,  till 
all  directions  were  given  for  the  night,  and  they  were 
left  alone.  Then,  taking  Mrs.  Herbert's  hand,  the 
invalid  drew  her  to  the  bed-side,  saying : 

"  Sit  close  by  me ;  my  voice  is  fast  failing,  and 
there  is  much  that  I  wish  to  tell  you  if  my  strength 
will  permit.  If  not  taxing  your  kindness  too 
severely,  I  desire  to  give  you  a  short  history  of  a 
sad,  and  very  eventful  life  ;  it  may  help  you  to  do 
good  to  others,  when  I  have  passed  away. 

"  I  was  an  only  child — the  cherished  idol  of  my 
parents ;  reared  in  affluence,  with  no  thought  that 
a  wish  of  mine  could  pass  ungratified. 

"  I  was  but  sixteen  when  I  met  Charles  Heed,  at 
a  dancing  party.  Oh,  could  parents  realize  how 
much  of  sin  and  suffering  originate  in  such  assem 
blies,  they  would  surely  devise  some  less  danger 
ous  amusement  for  their  loved  ones.  The  simple 
act  of  dancing  is  as  sinless  as  any  exercise  can  be ;  it 
is  the  associations  formed,  the  delirious  excitement 
of  music  and  the  dance,  and  worse  than  all,  the 
stimulating  beverage  so  lavishly  provided,  that  unfit 
the  young  for  exercising  discretion  or  judgment,  or 
resisting  temptations,  which,  in  a  calmer  moment, 


AN  UNSAFE  ASSOCIATE.  105 

amid  the  holy  safeguards  of  home,  would  have  no 
power  to  harm. 

"I  knew  that  Heed  was  not  one  whom  my 
parents  would  countenance ;  but  his  person  was 
faultless,  and  his  manners  far  more  attractive  and 
polished  than  any  young  man's  in  my  native  place. 
He  was  poor,  but  that  would  have  had  no  weight 
with  my  parents,  had  his  habits  and  morals  been 
without  reproach. 

"  When  first  introduced  to  him,  I  knew  that  the 
community  looked  upon  him  as  a  gay,  unprincipled 
man  ;  but  what  harm  could  there  be  in  conversing 
or  dancing  with  him  at  a  party,  where  the  amuse 
ment  of  the  present  hour  was  all  that  was  wished 
or  intended  ? 

"  Young  Reed  was  exceedingly  popular,  and  in 
great  demand  at  all  the  social  gatherings  among  the 
young  people,  because  of  his  remarkable  ability 
to  enliven  and  entertain  his  associates,  and  my 
parents  knew  that  he  was  always  present  at  all  such 
amusements.  It  was  ONLY  IN  THE  QUIET  HOME  CIRCLE, 
where  the  mother's  love  and  father's  watchfulness 
are  ever  vigilant,  to  protect  the  young  and  innocent 
from  danger,  that  he  would  have  been  refused 

admittance,  and  felt  to  be  an  unfit  companion. 

5* 


106  FROM     DAWN   TO   DAYLIGHT. 

"  I  will  not  linger.  Enough — we  met  often  in 
pulilio  places,  and  soon  my  judgment  was  no 
longer  consulted — my  heart  alone  spoke ;  and  oh, 
how  wildly  I  loved  that  man !  Had  I  not  been 
infatuated,  I  should  have  indignantly  discarded  him 
forever,  when,  after  winning  an  acknowledgment 
of  my  affection,  his  first  request  wTas,  that  I  would 
consent  to  a  clandestine  marriage,  fearing,  as  he 
averred,  a  refusal  from  my  family  on  account  of 
his  poverty.  But,  thank  God,  I  was  saved  that  sin ! 
My  parents,  when  consulted,  earnestly,  and  with 
great  tenderness  (but  too  late !)  warned  me  of  the 
danger,  and  entreated  me  to  relinquish  all  idea  of 
such  a  union.  But,  though  I  could  not  deny  that 
my  lover  had  been  addicted  to  intemperance,  gam 
ing  and  other  vices,  yet  I  assured  them  he  had 
most  certainly  reformed  (in  the  short  space  of  three 
months)  and  my  love  was  to  save  him  from  a  relapse ! 

"At  length,  with  sad  hearts,  and  many  tears,  my 
parents  yielded,  as  my  health  was  failing  under 
their  tender  opposition,  and  we  were  married. 

"  My  father  furnished  a  house  with  great  elegance, 
and  placed  a  liberal  sum  in  my  husband's  hands,  that 
he  might  at  once  commence  business  free  from  all 
embarassment  and  with  no  temptation  to  go  astray. 


TJNMASSED.  107 

"  Oil,  how  soon  was  I  roused  from  my  dream  of 
bliss  !  Too  impatient  of  the  restraints  he  had  sub 
mitted  to  for  some  months,  to  endure  them  after 
the  victim — and,  alas !  that  for  which  alone  he  val 
ued  her,  the  fortune — was  in  his  power,  my  hus 
band  cast  aside  the  mask  the  moment  the  marriage 
ceremony  was  solemnized. 

"  We  left  immediately  for  our  bridal  tour,  with 
the  promise  of  returning  in  two  weeks,  to  take  pos 
session  of  our  beautiful  home.  That  home,  fur 
nished  with  so  much  care  by  my  fond  parents,  I 
never  entered,  and  from  the  hour  my  mother  clasped 
her  only  child  to  her  breast,  in  a  tearful  farewell, 
and  my  father,  with  quivering  lips,  blessed  the 
young  bride,  I  have  never  seen  them !  Thirty-five 
years  of,  oh  how  much  sorrow  and  anguish  ! 

"  On  our  wedding-day,  my  father  placed  my  for 
tune  into  my  husband's  hands,  I  having  resolutely 
rejected  his  desire  to  settle  a  part  of  it  on  myself, 
and — can  you  believe  such  depravity  possible — the 
house  and  furniture  were  disposed  of  to  pay  "  debts 
of  honor,"  even  before  that  day — a  private  bargain, 
not  to  be  disclosed,  or  take  effect,  till  after  we  were 
gone! 

"ISTot  for  one  day — our  wedding  day — did  he, 


108  FROM  DAWN   TO   DAYLIGHT. 

who  had  vowed  before  God  and  man  to  love  and 
cherish  me,  retain  the  semblance  of  kindness.  I 
was  hurried  South,  and  strictly  watched  by  himself, 
and  a  creature  of  his  will.  All  trace  of  our  resi 
dence  was  carefully  hidden  from  my  parents,  and 
for  years  we  never  heard,  each  of  the  other.  When, 
at  last,  my  fortune  was  all  squandered,  I  wTas  com 
manded  to  write  to  my  father  for  another  supply, 
and  my  obedience  was  insured  by  the  promise,  that 
if  a  certain  sum  was  made  over  to  my  husband,  I 
should,  as  soon  as  he  received  it,  be  allowed  to 
leave  him,  and  return  to  my  precious  home.  The 
conditions  were  most  joyfully  complied  with,  on 
the  part  of  my  parents :  but  I  was  kept  a  closer 
prisoner  than  before. 

"  The  next  I  heard,  was  of  my  parents'  loss  of 
property  and  death.  My  father  had  impoverished 
himself,  at  a  time  when  all  his  available  means  were 
greatly  needed,  to  meet  a  business  crisis,  in  the  vain 
hope  of  rescuing  his  child  from  a  most  cruel  fate. 
The  double  failure  broke  his  heart,  and  my  gentle 
mother  was  laid  to  rest  by  his  side  the  same  week. 

"  When  these  facts  were  ascertained,  and  there 
was  no  longer,  a  hope  of  obtaining  pecuniary  aid 
through  me,  Mr.  Reed  brought  me  here,  and  left 


CHRISTIAN  FORGIVENESS.  109 

me  destitute.  I  had  no  means  to  go  home — and 
why  should  I  wish  to  go,  when  those  whose  love 
consecrated  the  home,  were  not  there  to  welcome 
me?" 

Exhaustion  and  excitement  compelled  Mrs.  Reed 
to  interrupt  this  painfully  interesting  narrative, 
and,  for  many  minutes,  Mrs.  Herbert  stood  over 
her  friend,  using  every  exertion  to  prevent  convul 
sions,  or  fainting.  "When  she  became  more  com 
posed,  Mary  begged  she  would  make  no  farther 
attempt  to  continue  the  history,  till  after  a  night's 
rest.  "With  a  sad,  but  very  expressive  smile,  she 
replied :  "  Dear  Mrs.  Herbert,  it  must  be  told  now, 
or  never.  I  have  but  little  more  to  add.  Let  me 
speak  while  I  yet  have  the  ability. 

"For  years  I  supported  myself,  and  trusted  I 
should  be  left  in  peace.  But  whenever*  he  is  on 
the  verge  of  starvation,  he  returns,  and  despoils 
me  of  everything  that  he  can  dispose  of.  For  the 
last  ten  years  I  have  earnestly  endeavored  to  lead 
a  Christian  life,  and  during  that  time  have  stiiven 
to  forgive  my  husband  for  all  the  misery  he  has 
wrought,  and  also  to  reclaim  him,  if  that  be  pos 
sible.  It  is  this  earnest  desire,  dear  Mrs.  Herbert, 
which  has  induced  me  to  confide  to  your  keeping 


110  FROM   DAWN   TO    DAYLIGHT. 

a  history,  wliicli  should,  otherwise,  have  been  buried 
with  me  in  the  grave.  I  see  great  changes  in  this 
miserable  man  since  his  last  return.  His  health, 
by  so  long  a  course  of  dissipation,  has  at  length 
been  entirely  destroyed,  and  I  do  not  feel  that  he 
can  live  long.  You  have  been  very  kind  to  me, 
and  to  none,  since  I  left  my  father's  house,  has  my 
heart  turned  so  lovingly,  as  to  you  and  your  noble 
husband.  It  seems  cruel  to  requite  all  your  at 
tentions  by  this  legacy  of  care  and  sorrow,  and  yet, 
dear  friend,  his  soul  is  as  precious  as  our  own. 
Will  you  and  Mr.  Herbert  watch  over  him,  and 
try  to  lead  him  out  of  darkness  into  light,  when  I 
am  gone  ?  I  see  you  shrink  from  it.  His  cruelty 
to  me  makes  the  thought  repugnant.  I  can  say 
little  more.  Life  is  fast  ebbing — faster  than  I 
thought — but  I  must  plead  with  you,  for  him  still. 
Kemember,  great  will  be  your  reward." 

" I  accept  your  charge,"  said  Mrs.  Herbert,  "most 
willingly.  All  that  we  can  do  to  reclaim  one  so 
near  to  you  shall  be  done.  But  do  not  talk  of 
dying.  My  heart  clings  to  you  as  to  a  mother  in 
this  strange  land;  and  though  I  am  ashamed  to 
speak  of  trials,  after  your  painful  story,  yet  some 
there  are,  and  more  will  follow,  when  I  shall  need 


THE   WELCOME   MESSENGER.  Ill 

your  kind  sympathy,  and  just  such  advice  as,  your 
long  experience  has  prepared  you  to  give.  Our 
little  church  cannot  spare  you.  You  will  soon  be 
better,  and  God  will  give  you  to  us,  and  all  who 
love  you,  yet  many  days." 

But  even  while  she  spoke,  a  strange  shadow  had 
settled  on  this  dear  friend's  face,  and  her  voice  was 
broken  and  faint  as  she  replied : 

"  No,  my  child.  I  have  long  expected  this,  and 
am,  I  trust,  prepared,  and  more  than  willing  to 
depart,  and  be  with  Jesus.  The  light  of  another 
earthly  Sabbath  will  never  shine  for  me,  but  I  go  to  a 
brighter  world — a  perpetual  Sabbath.  To  the  land 
of  peace  and  rest — to  the  holy  Father,  whose  hand 
has  led  me  by  a  way  I  knew  not — to  the  blessed 
Saviour,  who  died  that  I  might  live.  The  footsteps 
of  the  welcome  Messenger  are  even  now  on  the 
threshold,  the  songs  of  the  redeemed  are  ringing 
in  my  ears,  angels  are  beckoning  me,  and  the 
spirits  of  my  earthly  parents  are  saying,  c  Come 
up  hither.'  I  come.  Farewell,  my  daughter.  God 
ever  bless" 

Mary  sprang  to  her  feet,  and  bent  over  the  dying 
woman.  Her  eye  beamed  with  a  glorious  light, 
speaking  joy  unutterable.  One  smile,  borrowed 


112  FEOM  DAWN  TO   DAYLIGHT. 

from  the  angels  hovering  near  her,  and  the  patient, 
uncomplaining  sufferer  slept  in  Jesus. 

With  a  strength  not  her  own,  Mrs.  Herbert 
calmly  closed  her  eyes,  straightened  the  emaciated 
limbs,  and  folded  on  her  breast  tl^pse  ever  busy 
hands,  whose  "  labor  was  now  all  o'er,"  and  then 
knelt  by  the  bedside  alone  with  the  dead. 

"When  Mrs.  Herbert  rose  from  her  prayer,  it  was 
still  too  dark  to  go  for  assistance,  and  she  saw  the 
necessity  of  acting  by  herself.  Doubtful  if  in  that 
poor  abode  things  needful  could  be  found,  she 
opened  a  bureau,  and  carefully  examined  the  ward 
robe  of  her  friend.  She  was  turning  away,  unsuc 
cessful,  when,  at  the  bottom  of  a  drawer,  she  noticed 
a  parcel,  folded  in  a  napkin  of  the  finest  damask. 
In  this  she  found  all  the  usual  habiliments  for  the 
grave,  snowy  white,  and  prepared  with  the  utmost 
neatness.  The  style  of  the  articles,  and  the  quality, 
impressed  her  at  once  with  the  certainty,  that  these 
were  the  remains  of  her  bridal  outfit,  hoarded 
through  all  her  poverty  and  deprivations,  for  this 
solemn  occasion.  There  was  something  so  sad,  so 
touching  in  the  thought,  that  the  self-control,  which 
had  not  wavered  through  all  this  trying  night,  for 
sook  her,  and  she  wept  like  a  child. 


A   DARK   PICTURE.  113 

Alone,  in  this  noiseless  midnight,  did  Mary 
array  the  poor,  worn  body  in  these  mementoes  of 
former  affluence  and  withered  hopes.  Sadly  and 
tearfully,  as  she  arranged  each  garment,  did 
her  imagination  fill  up  the  brief  history  she  had 
that  night  heard.  Oh,  it  was  a  dark  picture ;  but 
how  many  thousand  just  such  are  in  our  midst ! 
Hearts  are  breaking  all  around  us  daily — won  by 
loving  words,  which  cost  the  speaker  nothing,  to 
be  thrown  away,  as  fickle  fancy  changes,  or  the 
gold,  for  which  the  words  were  spoken,  is  squan 
dered  in  "riotous  living."  Oh  !  we  must  not  speak 
too  confidently  of  woman's  equal  strength  with 
man.  The  Jiead  may  be,  and  no  doubt  often  is, 
fully  equal,  but  there  must  be  a  weak  spot  in 
woman's  heart ,  or  we  slibuld  not  be  so  often  de 
ceived  by  those  oily  speeches,  despairing  glances, 
and  vows  of  undying  constancy,  which  have  made 
so  many  of  the  best  and  noblest  of  our  sex,  the 
patient  victims  of  man's  arbitrary  power.  We 
must  learn  to  distinguish  the  ring  of  the  true  gold 
from  the  "  base  alloy "  (for,  thank  God,  there  are 
true,  constant,  loving  hearts  to  be  found  among  the 
IdgJier  powers) ;  or,  if  deceived,  prove  that  wo 


114  FROM   DAWN   TO    DAYLIGHT. 

have  strength  to  cast  the  traitor  from  us  forever,  or 
consent  to  be  called  the  " weaker  vessel" 

As  day  dawned,  a  step  outside  alarmed  Mrs. 
Herbert,  and  hastily  closing  the  door,  she  passed 
from  the  room,  dreading  to  meet  the  wretched 
being  she  had  that  night  vowed  to  watch  over,  and 
seek  to  lead  toward  peace  and  heaven. 

But  it  was  good  Dr.  Strong,  who,  with  an  un 
usually  excited  manner,  inquired — 

"How  is  Mrs.  Beed?" 

"At  rest!" 

"  Thank  God  she  is  spared  one  sorrow.  Her 
husband  has  but  now  breathed  his  last,  raving  in 
delirium  tremens.  May  I  never  witness  such 
another  deathbed.  His  face,  foreshadowing  the 
torments  of  the  lost,  is  still  before  me,  and  I 
feel  as  if  I  could  almost  hear  their  '  weeping,  wail 
ing  and  gnashing  of  teeth.'  And  the  kind-hearted 
physician  shuddered. 

"  Then  come  with  me,"  said  Mrs.  Herbert,  "  and 
I  will  show  you  such  a  contrast,  that  as  you  gaze 
you  will  imagine  that  you  hear  the  angels,  who, 
with  songs,  and  everlasting  symphonies,  bear  our 
departed  mother  safe  to  the  c  happy  land.' J: 

The  next  day  was  the  Sabbath,  and  after  giving 


A   SEEMON.  115 

notice  of  the  death  of  this  mother  in  Israel,  Mr. 
Herbert  preached  from  Rev.  xiv.  13  :  "Blessed  are 
the  dead  who  die  in  the  Lord,  from  henceforth. 
Yea,  saith  the  Spirit,  that  they  may  rest  from  their 
labors,  and  their  works  do  follow  them." 

He  spoke  of  the  various  answers  one  would  re 
ceive,  who  should  inquire  among  men,  "  Who  are 
the  blessed  ? 

"  With  the  Brahmins,  it  would  be,  he  who  is  an 
nihilated. 

"  With  the  Mohammedan,  he  upon  whom  Houris 
wait. 

"With  the  Indian,  he  who  reaches  the  great  hunt 
ing  grounds -,  where  success  and  victory  are  sure. 

"And  even  among  civilized,  Christian  communi 
ties,  there  is  a  wide  difference  in  men's  opinions  of 
the  meaning  of  true  blessedness. 

"  With  one,  wealth  is  the  key  by  which  to  gain 
an  entrance  into  the  desired  haven. 

"  Another  feels  that  he  could  be  truly  blessed,  if 
the  eyes  of  an  admiring  world  were  to  follow  his 
efforts.  That  would  be  the  height  of  his  am 
bition. 

"Another  longs  for  Pleasure  to  enwreath  his 
brow,  and  place  her  sparkling  cup  to  his  lips. 


116  FROM   DAWN   TO    DAYLIGHT. 

u  But  ask  of  God,  who  truly  knows  and  sees  all 
things  from  the  beginning,  and  he  replies : 

"  '  Blessed  are  the  dead  who  die  in  the  Lord? 

"The  righteous  dead  rest  from  temporal  care  and 
spiritual  labor  for  Zion,  and  for  sinners.  They  are 
no  longer  uncertain  as  to  the  grand  issue  of  their 
probationary  state.  They  at  once  and  forever  rest 
from  sin,  and  the  temptation  to  it. 

"  They  are  united  to  God.  They  see  him  as  he 
is,  are  constantly  in  His  presence,  instructed  by 
His  lips,  and  led  by  Him  through  eternity  in  pro 
gressive  steps  of  holiness  and  happiness. 

"Their  example  remains,  to  win  sinners  and  com 
fort  saints.  Their  prayers,  yet  to  be  answered, 
their  conversations  and  entreaties  for  children  and 
friends,  remain  in  God's  hands  long  after  they  are 
gone,  to  be  used  by  Him,  for  the  conversion  of 
those  for  whom  they  labored  while  on  earth. 

"  Think  of  the  friend  who  has  now  gone  from  us. 
"Will  her  deep  interest  in  the  cause  of  religion  in 
this  church — her  faith  and  trust  in  God — her  meek 
ness  and  humility — her  charity  to  the  faults  of 
others,  and  her  unwearied  benevolence,  ever  be 
forgotten,  by  those  of  us  who  have  been  so  pleas 
antly  associated  with  her  ? 


SHE   HAS   HEK   REWAKD.  117 

"  Will  not,  then,  her  labors  of  love  live  after  her, 
continually  bringing  forth,  fruit  which  shall  follow 
her  to  that  blessedness  upon  which  she  has  entered  ? 
There  is  hardly  a  roof  under  which  she  has  not 
been  found,  on  errands  of  mercy  or  kindness,  by 
night  and  by  day.  I  call  upon  you  to  notice  the 
superiority  of  goodness  over  everything  else  in 
society.  I  think  more  persons  of  every  class  were 
wont  to  visit  her  humble  residence,  than  any  other 
in  this  place.  And  why  ? 

"  Was  it  for  wealth  f    She  had  none. 

"  Was  it  for  flattery  f  She  always  spoke  plainly, 
and  always  spoke  the  truth. 

"  It  was  the  loveliness  of  a  true  Christian  character 
which  drew  all  to  her.  She  has  her  reward,  and 
angels  now  love,  whom  we  loved.  We  have  sus 
tained  great  loss,  by  that  which  was  her  unspeak 
able  gain.  Imitate  her,  dear  friends,  so  far  as  she 
imitated  Christ,  and  God  give  us  all  to  meet  her 
about  his  throne." 

This  is  but  a  feeble  outline  of  a  sermon  which 
was  not  soon  forgotten. 


GHAPTEE    VIII. 

A  WELCOME    GUEST. 

IT  is  a  soft,  lovely  night  in  June.  The  little  village 
of  Glenville  sleeps  as  calmly,  wrapped  in  its  moon 
light  mantle,  as  though  no  sorrow  could  find  its 
way  into  so  peaceful  a  scene.  But  there  is  no  rest 
in  the  pastor's  abode.  Anxious  faces  are  around 
the  bed.  Pale  as  marble,  Mr.  Herbert  tenderly 
wipes  the  drops  of  agony  from  the  sufferer's  brow, 
speaking  words  of  hope,  which  his  own  heart 
scarcely  believes,  and  the  unconscious  Mary  does 
not  recognize,  as  the  terrible  convulsion  shakes  her 
frame. 

"  Oh,  mother !  mother !"  The  first  words  she  has 
uttered  for  hours,  and  the  strong  man  bows  his 
head  upon  her  pillow,  in  anguish  of  spirit.  "What 
would  he  not  give  if  that  mother  were  only  there 
to  comfort  and  direct !  Hours  pass  unheeded — but 
at  length,  hearts,  well-nigh  hopeless,  were  cheered 

118 


LITTLE   SUSIE.  119 

by  a  favorable  change.  Consciousness  returned, 
and  as  the  sun  rose  over  the  town,  bathing  the 
green  hills  of  Kentucky  with  floods  of  glory,  little 
Susie  Herbert  opened  her  blue  eyes  upon  a  strange, 
new  world,  and  her  father's  glad  heart  went  forth 
in  gratitude  for  the  precious  gift,  and  still  more  for 
the  mother,  spared  to  bless  both  father  and  child. 

The  first  two  weeks  after  the  birth  of  the  little 
one,  were  filled  with  uncommon  suffering,  increased, 
and  in  part  caused,  by  the  inexperience  of  the  kind, 
but  very  unsafe  nurse,  who  had  volunteered  to  re 
main  with  Mrs.  Herbert  till  she  was  once  more  able 
to  take  charge  of  her  family  herself. 

Proud  and  happy  in  the  new  relation  of  father , 
George  forgot  his  dislike  to  letter-writing,  and  com 
municated  the  tidings  to  the  friends  on  both  sides, 
in  a  series  of  amusing,  and  most  graphic  epistles. 
The  child  was  a  wonder.  The  mother,  beyond  all 
praise — but  the  nursel —  If  I  could  but  obtain 
the  description  of  the  good  lady,  as  sent  to  Mrs. 
Leighton,  it  would  stamp  this  little  narrative  with 
immortality  forever. 

At  the  end  of  three  weeks,  Mrs.  Herbert  con 
cluded  to  try  the  experiment  of  resuming  the  labor 
for  her  family,  fearing  that  if  her  good-natured,  but 


120  FROM   DAWN    TO    DAYLIGHT. 

very  untidy  attendant,  remained  longer,  she  should 
have  a  second  edition  of  house-cleaning,  worse  than 
the  first. 

Taking  advantage,  therefore,  of  ner  husband's 
absence  for  a  fortnight,  she  signified  her  intention 
of  "pitching  into  it"  as  Miss  Polly  elegantly 
expressed  it,  and  they  parted  the  best  of  friends. 
Polly,  perfectly  satisfied  that  Miss  Herbert  never 
would  have  "  picked  up  so  cheery  "  had  it  not  been 
for  her  successful  nursing,  and  Mary,  equally  cer 
tain  that  nothing  need  ever  annoy  her  after  living 
through  these  three  weeks. 

Susie  proved  herself  a  jewel  of  a  baby — a  happy 
little  pigeon,  cooing  or  sleeping  night  and  day — and 
her  mother  thought  that  she  should  find  time  and 
strength  to  have  everything  in  order  and  home 
like,  before  her  husband's  return.  She  had  been 
moving  about  some  time,  and  was  beginning  to  feel 
that  if  "  the  spirit  was  willing,  the  flesh  was  weak," 
when  good  old  Mother  Morton  came  in  to  see  her. 

"Now  that's  just  what  I  expected,"  said  she. 
"I  saw  your  woman  pass  with  her  bundle,  and 
says  I  to  Martha  Ann,  I'll  run  round  to  the  minis 
ter's  awhile,  for  I'm  thinking  Polly,  good  soul,  has 
not  left  things  as  nice  as  she  found  them.  Miss 


UNEXPECTED   AID.  121 

Herbert  will  have  hold  of  the  scrub-brush  before  I 
get  there,  I'll  venture,  and  that  won't  answer,  no 
how.  You  see  now,  honey,  I'm  eenmost  as  good 
at  guessing  as  your  Yankee  folks,  for  here  you  are, 
all  pale  and  trembling,  and  I'll  warrant  have  done 
more  than  two  women's  work  since  she  left.  She's 
a  good  creature,  and  no  one  means  better ;  but  she 
ain't  neat,  it  must  be  admitted,  and  may  be  she 
isn't  to  blame  for  that.  We  all  have  our  gifts  and 
graces,  you  know.  But,  dear  soul,  you  just  give 
here  that  cloth  and  brush  now." 

"  ]STo,  no,  dear  Mother  Morton,  you  must  not  do 
this.  I  have  been  working  very  slowly,  and  will 
stop  now  and  talk  with  you." 

With  a  loving  smile,  Mrs.  Morton  put  her  two 
stout  arms  about  Mrs.  EL,  and  tenderly  laid  her  on 
the  bed,  by  the  baby. 

"There,  keep  still,  and  watch  these  little  blue 
eyes.  'Tain't  often  that  I  meddle  with  other  people's 
business,  but  I  don't  exactly  feel  that  I  am  doing  so 
now.  You've  left  your  mother  and  home,  to  come 
off  here  with  Mr.  Herbert  to  help  do  good,  and 
'twould  be  a  shame  if  some  of  us  old  bodies  didn't 
watch  over  you  a  little.  Mother  Keed  thought 
6 


122  FKOM   DAWN    TO   DAYLIGHT. 

*  heaps  on  you,'  and  with  good  cause,  and  there  are 
others  who  maybe  think  as  much." 

"  We  haven't  a  great  i  chance '  of  money,  but 
we've  got  hands  a  deal  stronger  than  your'n. 
Now  see  how  soon  I'll  have  some  of  Miss  Polly's 
grease-spots  out,"  and  while  her  words  flowed 
steadily  on,  the  brush  was  not  idle. 

A  noble-hearted  woman  was  Mrs.  Morton,  and 
Mary  knew  and  appreciated  her  worth,  and  under 
stood  also,  that  in  no  other  way  could  she  make  her 
kind  friend  so  happy,  as  to  allow  her  to  carry  out 
the  wishes  of  her  benevolent  heart.  So  she  fond 
led  her  child  a  few  moments,  and  then  dropped 
gently  to  sleep  by  its  side. 

Mrs.  Morton  came  and  stood  over  the  sleepers, 
silent  and  sadly,  while  the  tears  rolled  freely  down 
her  furrowed  cheek,  and  at  length  she  passed  softly 
into  the  next  room. 

"  Poor  thing !"  she  said  to  herself;  "  it  makes  me 
a  child  to  see  one  so  fair  and  delicate  come  to  wear 
out  and  die  here.  She  is  full  of  courage,  and  not 
a  bit  proud;  but  preachers  is  poorly  paid,  and 
their  wives  work  hard  and  break  down  soon  in  this 
climate.  Somehow  I  wish  I  could  just  take  that 


THE  LOED  WILL  PROVIDE.  123 

woman  and  her  baby,  and  put  her  back  into  her 
mother's  arms.  But  Mr.  Herbert  wouldn't  thank 
me  for  that,  and  I'm  sure  we  couldn't  spare  her 
ourselves.  "Well,  the  Lord  will  provide.'* 

Mary  woke  quite  rested  and  surprised  to  find 
that  it  was  nearly  noon.  Mrs.  Morton  had  done 
wonders  toward  obliterating  the  spots  and  stains 
of  the  last  weeks,  and  was  tying  on  her  sun-bon 
net,  ready  to  leave. 

"  Why  did  you  let  me  sleep  so  long,  dear  Mrs. 
Morton?" 

"  "Why  didn't  you  sleep  longer  ?"  said  she,  laugh 
ing.  "JSTow  just  you  keep  quiet;  or,  if  that's  ask 
ing  too  much,  take  your  sewing.  I'm  going  to 
run  home  a  minute,  and  then  come  back  and  invite 
myself  to  dinner.  Martha  Ann  is  going  to  spend 
the  day  with  a  cousin,  and  I've  a  nice  little  chicken, 
and  a  lot  of  green  peas  and  some  biscuit,  I  reckon 
about  as  good  as  your  mother  could  give  you.  So 
I  shall  bring  them  over,  and  we'll  eat  them  to 
gether." 

"Without  waiting  for  thanks,  she  hurried  away, 
and  soon  returning,  began  to  prepare  the  table  for 
their  dinner. 

"  At  least,  let  me  help  you  now,"  said  Mary. 


124:  FKOM   DAWN   TO   DAYLIGHT. 

"  No,  no.  Keep  quiet.  I  see  you've  been  look 
ing  over  bills  and  papers,  and  are  sober  and  troubled. 
Don't  let  these  things  vex  you.  Money  matters 
always  do  get  into  a  snarl  when  a  body  is  sick ;  but 
time  and  patience  will  cure  all  such  things." 

"  Close  economy,  and  no  little  hard  work,  must 
be  added,  to  complete  the  cure,  I  imagine,  my  kind 
friend,"  said  Mrs.  Herbert,  smiling,  "  and  I  am  in 
tending  to  call  you  in  as  my  consulting  physician." 

"  Well,  well.  Let's  leave  business  alone  till 
we've  had  our  dinner,  and  perhaps  that  may  put  a 
little  color  into  those  pale  cheeks,  and  give  you  more 
strength  to  arrange  matters ;"  and  soon  a  most  in 
viting  meal  was  placed  on  the  neatly-laid  table. 

"  If  Mr.  Herbert  were  only  here,  now,  this  would 
seem  quite  homelike.  I  feared  some  of  the  time 
Miss  Polly  was  writh  us,  that  my  good  husband 
would  famish ;  and  yet,  with  all  the  discomforts  of 
the  past  three  weeks,  these  bills  show  that  our 
expenses  have  been  double  that  of  any  two  months 
of  our  previous  housekeeping." 

"  I  can  easily  believe  that.  It's  common  talk, 
how  nicely  our  minister  and  his  wife  contrive  to 
live  on  almost  nothing.  How  do  you  do  it  ?  And 
how  did  you  manage,  as  unwell  as  you  have  been 


A   CONSULTATION.  125 

this  winter,  to  do  all  your  work  yourself,  till  the 
very  day  baby  was  born  ?" 

"  Oh,  it's  because  I  have  such  a  capable  husband. 
He  can  make  a  bed,  sweep,  wash  dishes,  make  cof 
fee,  cook  a  steak,  and  .make  better  bread  than  half 
the  housekeepers  in  the  land. 

u  But  now  I  want  to  consult  you.  "We  can  never 
get  along  with  as  little  as  we  have  done.  By  tak 
ing  in  sewing  all  winter,  I  was  enabled  to  lengthen 
many  a  short  place,  "but -with  little  puss — good  as 
she  is — I  foresee  I  can  do  little  beside  our  own  sew 
ing,  and,  indeed,  I  think  sewing  so  steadily  injures 
me." 

"  That  I  am  sure  it  does.  Dr.  Strong  says  he  only 
wonders  it  didn't  kill  you." 

"  "Well,  what  do  you  think  of  my  renting  the 
whole  of  this  house,  and  taking  a  few  boarders? 
Mr.  Dudley  moves  to-morrow  into  his  new  home, 
and  has  offered  to  let  me  have  the  whole  of  this 
tenement,  for  seventy-five  dollars  per  year  !" 

"  Why,  that  is  not  double  what  you  pay  for  these 
two  rooms  alone,  and  it  is  four  times  as  large.  What 
does  it  mean  ?" 

"  Just  this,  I  imagine,  Mrs.  Dudley  has  been  a 
true  friend  ever  since  wre  have  been  here,  and 


126  FKOM   DAWN   TO    DAYLIGHT. 

couldn't  well  help  seeing  that  it  was  pretty  close 
work  to  make  our  quarterly  payments.  I  presume 
she  has  been  using  her  influence  with  her  husband 
for  our  benefit. 

"  Shall  I  accept  the  offer  ?  I  must  decide  to-day, 
for  I  know  Mr.  Dodge  wants  the  house,  and  has 
offered  a  hundred  dollars  for  it." 

"If  it  were  not  for  the  hard  work  you  will  bring 
upon  yourself,  poor  dear,  I  would  say  accept  at 
once,  for  you'll  never  have  so  good  an  offer.  But 
what  will  Mr.  Herbert  say  ?" 

"  He  will  be  sorry  for  the  necessity,  of  course, 
and  perhaps,  at  first,  be  reluctant  to  admit  that  any 
such  necessity  exists ;  but  he  can't  well  fail  to  see 
it  after  looking  over  these  papers,"  said  Mary, 
laying  her  hand  on  the  pile  of  bills.  "And  beside, 
if  I  get  all  nicely  moved,  and  everything  in  order, 
with  the  boarders  on  hand,  what  can  he  do  lut 
submit,  and  be,  for  once,  the  dutiful  husband  he 
boasted  himself  to  be,  the  last  time  you  saw 
him." 

"  Well,  you  and  Mr.  Herbert  beat  all,  for 
taking  everything  merrily.  Eut  let  me  tell  you,  if 
this  thing  must  be  done,  you  will  allow  the  old 
woman  to  help  you  move,  and  in  any  other  way 


A   FETEND    IN   NEED.  127 

she  can.  But  you  aint  going  to  Lave  any  boarders 
till  you  are  a  '  sight '  stronger  than  you  are  now." 

"  Oh,  yes ;  if  I  take  the  house  I  must  make  it 
'pay '  at  once ;  and  my  maxim  is,  the  more  people 
use  their  strength,  the  more  they'll  have." 

"  Well,  I  don't  like  it  a  bit ;  but  if  it  must  be,  I 
can  secure  you  four  good  boarders  for  next  Mon 
day  ;  you  shan't  have  them  a  day  sooner.  There 
are  two  ladies  and  two  gentlemen — I  wish  I  could 
find  all  gentlemen ;  for  every  housekeeper  knows, 
their  business  calls  them  out  so  much,  it  is  less 
trouble  than  boarding  ladies ;  but  these  are  all  I 
know  of  now." 

"  Thank  you,  thank  you !  what  a  comfort  you 
are  to  me  !  And  will  you  add  to  your  favors  by 
telling  me  if  there  is  any  place,  short  of  the  city, 
where  I  can  rent  second-hand  furniture  with  little 
expense.  Of  course,  it  must  be  simple.  We  have 
only  the  furnishing  of  these  two  rooms." 

"  I  was  wishing  to  speak  of  that,  but  feared  it 
might  seem  too  bold;  now,  however,  I  will  tell 
you.  Before  my  man  died,  we  used  to  board  our 
'  'prentice  boys ;'  but  now  there  is  no  one  but 
Martha  Ann  and  myself ;  I  have  a  {  heap  of  plun 
der  dumped  down '  in  my  garret.  It's  plain,  but 


128  FROM   DAWN   TO   DAYLIGHT. 

comfortable,  something  like  what  you  have  here. 
If  you'll  use  it  till  I  call  for  it,  and  make  no  words 
about  it,  I  shall  consider  it  as  a  favor." 

Mrs.  Herbert  "  made  no  words,"  but  putting  her 
arms  round  the  kind  lady's  neck,  kissed  her  most 
affectionately,  and  I  doubt  not,  it  was  a  more  valu 
able  return  to  her  than  money  could  have  been. 

The  next  day  Mrs.  Dudley  moved  out,  and  gave 
up  the  house  to  Mrs.  Herbert.  A  few  moments  after 
the  keys  were  handed  her,  Mrs.  Morton  walked  in 

"  Well,  here's  the  housin'-stuff ;  are  you  able  to 
tell  us  where  we  are  to  place  it  ?" 

"  Why,  but  dear  Mrs.  Morton,  don't  the  rooms 
need  cleaning,  before  putting  anything  into  them?" 

A  hearty  laugh  was  the  reply. 

"I  know  you  are  thinking — oh  dear! — these 
Hoosiers  don't  understand  how  to  do  anything, 
neatly." 

"  Oh,  no.  There's  no  fear  I  should  say  that  of 
you,  at  any  rate,  after  having  once  seen  your  home. 
But  I  only  thought  it  would  be  so  much  easier 
cleaning  while  the  house  was  empty." 

"  Sartain ;  and  Mrs.  Dudley's  had  a  woman  at 
work  with  me  all  day,  scouring  each  room  as  fast 
as  her  things  were  taken  away ;  and  'tis  all  in 


ANOTHER    VOLUME.  129 

order.  I  was  *  despi't  feared '  you'd  find  it  out, 
when  we  were  at  work  in  the  room  opposite." 

Mrs.  Herbert's  thanks  may  be  imagined,  and 
also  all  the  planning  and  contriving,  between  the 
two  ladies,  till  their  work  was  done,  and  well  done. 

The  next  morning,  Mrs.  Morton  sent  the  gentle 
men,  and  came  soon  after  with  the  ladies,  to  make 
all  arrangements  requisite  to  their  becoming  mem 
bers  of  the  pastor's  family.  It  was  decided  that 
they  should  make  their  appearance  at  dinner  on 
Monday  noon. 

"When  this  was  settled,  Mary  felt  that  she  had 
opened  another  volume  in  life's  history,  and 
longed  for  her  husband's  presence,  that  they  might 
begin  it  together.  A  week  elapsed  before  his 
return,  and  then,  though  he  feared  the  burden  would 
be  too  severe  upon  his  wife,  he  could  not  fail  to  see  a 
necessity  for  some  increase  of  their  means  of  sup 
port,  and  this,  he  hoped,  would  be  less  injurious  than 
such  constant  application  to  her  needle  had  been. 

A  year  passed  quickly  by,l  bringing  cares, 
labors,  and  anxieties  to  our  friends,  as  to  others, 
but  far  more  of  peace  and  true  happiness,  than  all 
the  luxuries  wealth  can  give,  or  than  generally 

falls  to  the  lot  of  mortals. 

6* 


130  FKOM  DAWN   TO   DAYLIGHT. 

Loving  messages  from  Hill  Farm  were  very  fre 
quent,  and  Mary's  bright  and  hopeful  replies  were 
filled  with  amusing  pictures  of  their  home  life,  and 
glowing,  mother-like  descriptions  of  little  Susie — 
the  pet  and  plaything  of  all. 

Meanwhile,  Mr.  Herbert's  talents  and  efforts  be 
gan  to  be  more  widely  known  and  appreciated,  and 
occasionally  Glenville  was  thrown  into  a  fever  of 
excitement  by  rumors  of  "  calls  "  received,  or  to  bo 
received,  from  some  of  the  most  important  points 
in  the  State.  The  people  of  his  charge  were  begin 
ning  to  look  upon  him  as  their  own,  and  felt  it  little 
less  than  robbery,  to  seek  to  take  him  from  them. 
A  lot  had  been  bought,  and  plans  were  on  foot  to 
build  a  larger  church,  with  a  house  near  by  for  a 
parsonage.  Other  denominations  had  pledged 
assistance,  and  the  pastor's  salary  was  to  be  in 
creased  one  hundred  dollars,  with  the  promise  to 
make  it  still  more  liberal  another  year. 

At  this  crisis,  a  pressing  invitation  was  extended 
to  Mr.  Herbert,  to  remove  to  a  neighboring  city  of 
considerable  importance,  and  take  charge  of  a  new 
enterprise  in  that  place.  The  invitation  was  at  once 
rejected;  again  repeated,  and  a  second  time  refused. 
A  third  application,  still  more  urgent,  was  enforced 


THE   DECISION.  131 

I 

by  such  strong  arguments,  for  a  more  careful  con 
sideration  of  the  matter,  that  he  dared  not  dismiss 
the  question  without  consulting  his  older  brethren 
in  the  ministry. 

How  anxiously  did  the  little  church  wait  for  that 
decision !  Petitions  were  signed  from  all  classes 
and  all  denominations.  The  parsonage  was  besieged 
with  those  who  came  entreating,  with  tears,  that 
they  would  not  forsake  them,  until  both  Mr.  and 
Mrs.  Herbert  were  half  sick  with  the  excitement. 

The  first  Sabbath  after  the  synodical  consultation, 
Mr.  Herbert  was  obliged  to  make  their  decision 
public  How  many  trembling  hearts  were  as 
sembled  in  the  dear  little  church  on  that  bright 
summer  morning !  The  house  was  crowded,  when 
the  pastor  and  his  wife  entered,  and  one  glance  at 
their  pale,  sad  faces  was  enough.  A  sob,  almost  a 
groan,  passed  through  the  congregation.  The 
prayer  and  sermon  was  a  most  excellent  prepara 
tion,  for  what,  al]  knew,  they  must  hear — replete 
with  tenderness  and  love,  making  his  people  ready 
to  cry  out,  "how  can  we  give  him  up?"  and  yet 
convincing  them  that  nothing  but  the  sternest  con 
viction  of  duty  could  have  persuaded  him  to  a 
separation. 


132  FROM  DAWN  TO  DAYLIGHT. 

*  ft 

After  the  sermon,  M.i\  Herbert  announced  his 
decision  formally,  and  told  them  frankly  the  steps 
by  which  he  had  been  led,  and  explained  the  rea 
sons  why  his  brethren  felt  that  he  ought  not  to 
hesitate. 

They  were  such,  and  so  strong,  that  even  his 
sorrowing  people  could  not  gainsay  them.  He 
was  to  remain  some  weeks  longer,  and  would  do 
all  in  his  power  to  supply  them  with  another  pastor 
before  leaving. 

About  this  time  little  Susie  began  to  show 
symptoms  of  illness,  from  teething,  and  as  the 
warm  weather  progressed,  she  failed  rapidly. 

For  many  days  they  watched  her,  scarcely  able 
to  perceive  the  feeble  breath.  Every  arrangement 
had  been  completed  for  their  departure  to  the 
new  field  of  labor,  but  the  darling  of  all  hearts 
could  not  be  moved,  and  the  prospect  was  every 
hour  more  probable,  that  they  would  be  obliged 
to  lay  her  little  form  to  rest  among  the  people  of 
their  first  home. 

One  morning,  the  physician  announced  a  change, 
saying  a  few  hours  would  decide,  whether  for  life 
or  death,  and  advised,  if  favorable,  that  they  should 
commence  their  journey  immediately,  in  a  private 


THE  FAHEWELL.  133 

carriage,  as  riding  would  be  the  best  restorative 
for  the  child,  if  taken  slowly. 

At  noon,  Dr.  Strong  assured  the  anxious  parents 
that  by  great  care,  and  the  most  judicious  nurs 
ing,  their  little  one  would  recover. 

The  next  day  Mr.  Herbert  preached  his  parting 
sermon  to  a  weeping  congregation.  "We  will  not 
linger  over  this  trying  time,  and  the  most  affec 
tionate  farewells  exchanged,  as  their  loved  teacher 
and  friend  passed  from  the  little  church  for  the 
last  time. 

It  was  sad  for  all,  but  most  for  the  young  pastor 
and  his  wife.  Here  had  been  their  "  wedded  love's 
first  home,"  and  no  other  spot  could  ever  have,  for 
them,  half  its  charms.  They  turn  from  well- 
known,  true  and  faithful  friends,  to  strange  scenes, 
and  untried  hearts,  not  knowing  what  shall  befall 
them  there. 


CHAPTEE  IX. 

NORTON. 

THE  journey  was  a  delightful  change,  from  the 
cares  and  anxieties  of  a  sick-room,  and  the  keen 
sufferings  of  parting  from  their  people.  Little 
Susie  improved  visibly  with  every  hour,  and  her 
parents  were  soothed  and  comforted  by  the  plea 
sant  ride  of  four  days.  A  kind  friend  had  fur 
nished  them  with  an  easy  carriage  and  a  good 
horse,  and  they  were  at  liberty  to  travel  so  leisurely 
as  to  feel  it  restful,  rather  than  fatiguing. 

It  was  almost  sunset  when  they  came  in  sight  of 
their  future  home.  To  our  friends  it  bore  little  re 
semblance  to  all  their  past  ideas  of  a  city.  It  was 
more  like  one  of  the  large  flourishing  towns  of 
New  England  in  size,  but  without  the  varied  and 
beautiful  scenery,  which  usually  characterizes  such 
towns. 

They  looked  in  vain  for  some  bold  feature  in  the 

134 


THIS  NEW  HOME.  135 

landscape.  A  hill,  a  bit  of  wood,  or  even  a  moss- 
grown  rock,  would  have  been  a  positive  luxury. 

"  How  I  shall  miss  the  river,  and  the  bold  Ken 
tucky  hills  beyond !"  said  Mr.  Herbert ;  "  and  the 
1  puff,5  c  puff,'  of  the  great  boats,  passing  and  re- 
passing  hourly !" 

"  Yes,  we  shall  regret  all  these ;  but  most  I 
dread  the  vain  longings  for  the  old  familiar  faces. 
Good  Doctor  Strong,  kind,  simple-hearted  Mother 
Morton — always  ready  in  the  hour  of  need.  Poor 
Mrs.  Gilbert,  whom  I  had  hoped  to  watch  over 
and  comfort,  in  her  passage  to  the  <  better  land.' 
And  dear  Deacon  Blake  and  wife,  so  prompt,  yet 
so  delicate  and  unobtrusive,  in  all  their  attentions 
— how  can  I  leave  them  all,  and  form  new  ties 
among  this  strange  people  ?" 

"  Is  it  harder,  dearest,  than  to  leave  your  old 
home,  father,  mother,  and  all,  to  go  with  me 
among  those  equally  strange,  yet  who  have  now 
become  so  dear  ?" 

"Ah!  I  know  it  seems  very  foolish,  my  dear 
husband.  But  I  had  then  little  experience,  and 
saw  everything  in  such  a  bright,  hopeful  light. 
"We  have  passed  through  some  dark,  rough  places 
since  then,  dear,  and  know  that  there  are,  most 


136  FROM   DAWN  TO  DAYLIGHT. 

probably,  still  darker  in  the  future ;  I  shrink  from 
meeting  them  here,  whatever  they  may  be." 

Mary's  tears  were  dropping  silently  over  her 
sleeping  child,  and  her  husband  at  once  divined 
the  direction  of  her  thoughts. 

""Why,  Mary  dear,  this  is  not  like  your  usual 
hopefulness.  I  see  you  are  c  borrowing  trouble ' 
for  c  little  puss '  here.  I,  on  the  contrary,  am 
greatly  encouraged.  How  much  she  has  improved 
in  the  last  three  days.  When  we  started,  I  had 
little  hope  of  bringing  her  thus  far,  alive,  and  now 
she  is  gaining  hourly.  Cheer  up,  darling,  you 
must  not  show  so  sad  a  face  when  we  greet  our 
new  people." 

"  This  little  pale,  doll-like  creature,  in  my  arms, 
will  be  excuse  enough  for  a  sad  face ;  but  I  will  try 
and  be  cheerful  for  your  sake,  my  husband." 

"  That's  my  own  good  wife.  And  now  here  we 
are,  and  there  are  Elder  Jackson  and  his  lady 
waiting  at  the  gate.  You  can't  help  liking  her, 
I  know." 

Our  friends  were  most  cordially  welcomed,  and 
the  sweet-faced,  beautiful  wroman  who  met  Mary, 
with  a  kiss  as  warm  as  if  she  had  known  her  for 
years,  won  her  heart  at  once. 


FIRST   IMPRESSIONS.  137 

"We  will  leave  the  history  of  "  fiist  impressions" 
to  be  gained  from  Mrs.  Herbert's  earliest  letter  to 
her  mother. 

"NORTON,  Aug.  3,  18—. 
"  MY   DEAKEST   MOTHER  : 

"My  last  letter  told  you  of  the  'call'  to 
this  place,  and  the  pain  it  cost  to  decide  that  we 
ought  to  come,  and  also  the  added  trial  of  our 
dear  baby's  illness.  George  wrote  you  the  morn 
ing  we  left  Glenville,  that  she  was  better,  and  that 
letter  you  have  received,  no  doubt. 

"  "We  were  four  days  on  our  way  here.  One  of 
the  elders  of  this  church  came  for  us  with  his 
horse  and  carriage,  and  learning  how  low  little 
Susie  was,  left  them  for  us  to  come  on  slowly,  and 
returned  himself  by  stage. 

"The  journey  has  greatly  benefited  her,  but 
still,  it  hardly  seems  possible  that  she  can  recover. 
I  never  saw  so  sick  a  child.  Why,  my  dear 
mother,  she  is  fourteen  months  old,  and  weighs  but 
a  pound  and  a  half  more  than  she  did  the 
day  of  her  birth.  Before  her  illness  she  was  an 
uncommonly  large  child.  But  the  ladies  here  tell 
me  that  such  changes  from  teething  are  very  com 
mon  in  this  climate,  and  seem  to  feel  quite  sure 


138  FROM   DAWN   TO    DAYLIGHT. 

she  will  now  gain  rapidly.  God  grant  it.  But  I 
fear  I  am  weak  in  faith. 

"  "We  are  staying  for  a  few  days  with  one  of  the 
principal  men  of  the  church,  and  find  a  very  plea 
sant  family  and  comfortable  quarters.  Mrs.  Jack 
son  is  one  of  the  most  lovely  women  I  ever  met, 
and,  if  I  may  judge  from  so  short  an  acquaintance, 
is  as  <  good  as  she  is  bonnie.'  She  has  quite  a  large 
family  (your  number,  I  think),  and  yet  does  not 
look  much  older  than  I  do. 

"  Her  family  seem  to  look  to  her  as  to  all  that  is 
good  and  perfect  in  woman,  and  yet  I  think  they 
are  troubled  and  anxious  about  her.  She  strikes 
one  as  exceedingly  delicate. 

"  The  daughters  are  very  pleasant,  well-informed 
girls,  far  superior  to  any  I  have  met  with  since  I 
left  home,  but  none  of  them  will  ever  be  as  fair  to 
look  upon  as  their  gentle  mother. 

""We  are  to  take  possession  of  a  little  cottage 
near  by,  next  week,  ready  furnished,  which  we  can 
have  a  few  months  perhaps,  but  hope  by  that  time 
to  be  able  to  make  some  permanent  arrange 
ment. 

"  The  people  promise  us  a  more  liberal  support 
than  we  had  at  Grlenville,  but  I  am  a  little  fearful 


HOPES   AND   PEOSPECTS.  139 

that  the  promises  may  not  be  so  reliable  as  with 
the  dear  church  we  have  left. 

"  They  were,  to  be  sure,  able  to  do  but  little ;  but 
they  invariably  went  beyond  what  they  engaged  to 
do.  George  is,  as  usual,  sure  it  '  will  all  come  out 
right.'  He  is  ever  more  sanguine  about  matters 
coming  right  than  I  am ;  but  the  worst  of  it  is,  I 
am  sorry  to  say,  that  in  money  matters  my  view  of 
our  affairs  is  generally  the  most  correct.  If  the 
worst  comes,  however,  we  can  take  boarders  again, 
though  I  have  a  great  longing  to  live  just  in  my 
own  family,  for  a  little  while  at  least.  We  have 
so  much  visiting  to  do,  that  it  seems  almost  a  ne 
cessity  that  the  home, '  however  homely,'  should  be 
ours  alone — a  resting-place  from  all  outside  cares 
and  turmoil. 

"  Have  had  many  calls  from  our  new  friends, 
and  find  some  that  bid  fair  to  prove  pleasant  ac 
quaintances ;  but,  thus  far,  I  can't  feel  c  drawn  to 
them,'  as  I  was  when  I  first  met  the  people  of 
Glenville.  There  is  more  profession  of  interest, 
but  I  doubt  if  I  shall  find  as  much  heart — 
that  kind  of  heart  which  one  can  rest  securely 
upon,  when  the  dark  days  come.  Perhaps  because 
.1  am  older  and  more  experienced  (one  learns  fast 


140  FKOM   DAWN   TO   DAYLIGHT. 

in  this  country),  and  do  not  take  people  upon  trust 
as  readily  as  formerly ;  perhaps  I  am  a  little  cross 
and  soured  by  this  parting,  and  my  heart  closes 
itself  against  the  idea  of  receiving  a  new  love,  so 
soon  after  leaving  the  old.  If  that  is  the  reason,  I 
must  riot  indulge  it — and  will  not. 

"  When  we  received  this  call,  we  were  informed 
by  the  people  of  Glenville  that  it  was  a  place 
greatly  subject  to  the  fever  and  ague ;  but  Norton 
folks  assured  us  it  was  a  false  report — that  it  was  an 
unusually  healthy  place.  Still,  as  we  drew  nigh,  on 
our  journey  hither,  my  heart  misgave  me.  It  is  a 
broad,  level  stretch  of  land  as  far  as  the  eye  can 
reach,  looking  as  if  one  good,  thorough  rain  would 
transform  it  into  an  impassable  morass.  How  the 
inhabitants  contrive  to  get  about  in  rainy  weather 
I  can't  imagine,  unless  they  use  stilts.  The  city 
itself  has  been  reclaimed  in  part  from  this  slough, 
and  presents  quite  a  thriving  appearance,  being  very 
prettily  laid  out,  with  a  number  of  fine  buildings. 
Excepting  in  the  main  business  streets,  the  houses 
are  not  so  huddled  together,  after  the  manner  of 
our  eastern  cities ;  but  each  has  a  fine  back  and 
front  yard,  and  the  streets  are  broad,  with  shade- 
trees  on  either  side.  On  the  whole,  when  seen  on 


ONLY   THE   CHILLS.  141 

a  fair,  sun-lighted  day,  it  is  rather  attractive  at 
first  sight ;  but  after  a  while  the  eye  tires  of  the 
sameness,  and  longs  for  some  one  or  two  elevated 
points  to  rest  upon,  if  it  be  but  a  mole-hill.  The 
village  on  *  the  Plains '  near  home  will  give  you 
some  idea  of  this  place  ;  only  you  must  shut  out  all 
those  high  hills,  and  woods,  and  farms  which  encir 
cle  c  the  Plains,'  and  give  them  their  greatest  charm. 

"  After  tea,  the  evening  we  arrived,  a  little  boy 
I  had  not  seen,  came  into  the  parlor.  He  was  in 
good  flesh,  but  so  pale  and  Wue.  ( Is  he  ill  ?'  I 
asked  the  mother. 

"  <  Oh,  nothing  but  the  chills.' 

"  c  They  must  be  very  common,  if  you  speak  of 
them  so  calmly,'  I  replied. 

"'Oh,  yes,'  said  the  eldest  daughter,  smiling; 
'  we  take  turns  in  having  them.  "We  should  not 
feel  at  home,  unless  some  one  was  shafting  about 
the  house.  It's  nothing  so  dreadful,  Mrs  Herbert ; 
everybody  makes  light  of  it — after  it  is  over.' 

"  '  Don't  look  so  distressed,  and  gaze  so  sadly  on 
your  little  one,'  said  Mrs.  Jackson ;  c  chills  are  not 
the  worst  troubles  in  the  world.  To  be  sure,  they 
are  not  very  desirable,  but  fatal  consequences, 
arising  from  them,  are  rare.5 


142  FROM   DAWN   TO   DA  FLIGHT. 

" '  But,  Mrs.  Jackson,  we  liave  been  sadl;? 
deceived.  "We  were  informed,  before  we  decided 
to  come,  that  this  region  of  country  was  subject  to 
"  fever  and  ague;"  but  the  gentlemen  from  Norton, 
to  whom  my  husband  went  to  learn  the  truth  of 
the  report,  assured  him  most  earnestly  that  it  was 
not  so  ;  and  on  that  assurance  we  decided  to  come. 
They  knew  we  should  have  declined  had  we 
known  this ;  for  lightly  as  you  speak  of  this  disease, 
we  know  that,  in  the  end,  it  undermines  the  health 
and  ruins  the  constitution,  and  we  should  have  felt 
it  a  sin,  voluntarily  to  place  ourselves  in  such  a 
position.' 

"  I  could  not  help  seeing  the  look  of  astonish 
ment  which  passed  round  the  little  circle. 

" c  Are  you  sure,'  said  Mrs.  Jackson,  *  that  there 
is  not  some  mistake?  I  cannot  understand  what 
any  one  could  expect  to  gain  by  giving  you  infor 
mation,  the  falsity  of  which  you  could  not  fail  to 
learn  by  a  week's  residence ;  and  surely  any  one 
must  see  far  enough  ahead  to  realize  that,  once 
known,  it  would  weaken  your  confidence  in  us  as  a 
people. 

" <  The  whole  region  has  always  been  noted  for 
fever  and  ague,  ever  since  it  was  settled.  When 

* 


SLOW — BUT   SURE.  143 

Mr.  Jackson  and  myself  first  came  here  it  was 
frightful :  but  as  the  country  round  about  became 
drained  and  settled,  it  has  gradually  decreased,  or 
rather  become  much  less  severe.' 

"  As  I  looked  at  the  delicate  face  before  me,  and 
marked  the  hectic  flush  on  her  cheek,  while  she 
spoke,  I  could  not  but  think  that  '  only  the  chills? 
though  perhaps  a  slow  death,  might,  nevertheless, 
prove  a  sure  one. 

"  I  fear  I  may  have  said  too  much  and  pre 
judiced  them  against  me,  at  the  beginning.  But 
it  was  so  trying  to  feel  that  I  had  brought  my 
poor  baby  from  so  healthy  a  place  as  Glenville ! 
"Well,  it  is  done,  and  fretting  won't  help  the 
matter ;  I  think  I  will  not  tell  George  of  it,  how 
ever  ;  it  will  dishearten  him,  at  a  time  when  he 
needs  all  his  courage,  to  learn  that  the  people  with 
whom  we  are  to  dwell,  in  order  to  accomplish  their 
wishes,  should  so  forget  the  truth. 

"  I  wish  I  had  not  learned  it  myself — at  least,  till 
I  had  become  more  at  home,  and  better  acquainted 
with  these  new  friends. 

"  I  must  close  now  ;  I  fear  you  will  be  troubled 
with  this  letter,  dear  mother,  and  it  might  have 
been  more  generous  had  I  waited  till  I  felt  in 


144:  FROM  DAWN  TO   DAYLIGHT. 

better  liumor,  with  all  the  world,  and  with  this 
place  in  particular.  I  have  acted  on  Cowper's 
principle,  though  I  don't  believe  in  it.  He  says, 
4  What's  the  use  of  having  friends,  if  we  don't 
let  them  bear  a  part  of  our  burdens.' 

"  But  I've  no  doubt  I  shall  feel  as  happy  as  ever 
in  a  week.  Why  not  ?  I  have  my  husband  and 
child  safe  as  yet.  Indeed  I  feel  better  satisfied 
already.  You  see,  Harry  dear,  I'm  giving  you 
the  benefit  of  enough  'Ule'  to  save  me  at  least 
a  year  from  the  shakes.  Isn't  that  good  logic, 
father? 

"  And  now  good  bye.  When  I  am  fairly  at  home 
once  more  I'll  write  again. 

"  Most  lovingly, 

"MARY  HERBERT." 

Mrs.  Leighton's  reply  to  this  contained  one  piece 
of  advice,  which  I  insert  for  the  benefit  of  all  lov 
ing  wives.  After  expressing  great  sympathy,  and 
her  fears  for  the  health  of  her  daughter  and 
family,  she  adds : 

"  But,  my  dear  Mary,  I  must  reprove  you  a  little. 
I  notice  in  your  letters  to  me,  that  frequently,  after 
alluding  to  some  little  annoyance,  or  trial  hard  for 


FOB   BETTER   OR   FOE   WORSE. 

you  to  bear,  you  say,  'I  tell  you,  dear  mother,  of 
these  petty  grievances  just  to  relieve  my  mind,  but 
I  never  go  to  George  with  my  troubles.  I  would 
not  for  the  world  hinder  his  usefulness,  or  take 
his  mind  from  his  labors  by  speaking  of  trials 
which  I  can  bear  alone.' 

"  Your  intentions  arc  excellent,  my  dear  child, 
but  I  do  not  think  you  judge  correctly.  I  believe 
it  is  for  the  happiness  of  husband  and  wife  to  be 
one,  so  truly  that  they  shall  share  with  each  other  all 
things,  that  even  in  the  smallest  matters  there  shall 
be  the  most  perfect  confidence  and  openness.  The 
promise  was  'for  better  or  for  worse^for  joy  or  sor- 
row?  It  is,  I  think,  11  mistaken  idea,  that  a  clergy 
man's  mind  should  be  constantly  shielded  from  all 
the  little  rubs  and  irritations  of  life,  and  especially 
that  his  wife  ought  to  conceal  all  her  anxieties  and 
perplexities,  and  be  ready,  under  all  circumstances, 
to  meet  her  husband  with  an  unclouded  brow  which, 
when  her  heart  is  troubled,  means,  in  plain  Eng 
lish,  that  she  ought  to  play  the  hypocrite,  to  save 
his  feelings.  Such  a  course  is  an  insult  to  a  hus 
band's  manliness  of  character,  and  will  eventually 
spoil  any  man,  unless  he  is  already  an  angel.  Now, 
I  do  not  believe  our  dear  George  is  quite  angelic 

7 


14:6  FROM   DAWN   TO   DAYLIGHT. 

jet,  but  he  is  far  too  good  and  noble  to  be  made 
vain  and  selfish  by  his  wife's  using  herself  as  a 
shield  to  ward  off  little  trials.  Great  troubles  any 
man  can  bear,  but  your  husband  will  grow  in 
grace  much  faster,  and  go  on  unto  perfection  all 
the  more  easily,  if  he  learns  to  meet  petty  vex 
ations  with  equanimity ;  and  you,  my  child,  will 
live  to  aid  him  much  longer,  and  far  more  effect 
ually,  if  you  £  bear  one  another's  burdens,'  instead 
of  one  little  silly  girl's  attempting  to  carry  the 
whole  load  for  both.  Try  it,  my  darling  5  or,  years 
hence,  when  you  are  growing  old,  perhaps  feeble 
and  incapable  of  such  exertions  as  you  now  make, 
you  will  yearn  for  comfort  and  aid  from  him,  and 
find,  too  late,  that  your  husband  has  so  well 
learned  the  lesson  you  have  yourself  taught  him, 
that  he  cannot  readily  unlearn  it,  and  if  you  then 
claim  his  sympathy  and  affectionate  support,  he 
may  feel  that  you  are  encroaching  on  time  devoted 
to  the  duties  of  his  high  calling.  Then  it  will  not 
do  for  you  to  remind  him  that  there  are  other 
duties,  equally  binding  as  those  which  belong  to 
his  public  life. 

"But  I  have  warned   you,   and  will  add  no 


more." 


NO   CAUSE  FOR  FEAE.  147 

"  Poor  mother !"  said  Ker  daughter,  after  read 
ing  the  letter.  "  The  warning  is  tinged  by  the 
dark  shadows  of  her  own  experience.  But  the 
4  lines  have  fallen  unto  me  in  pleasant  places/  so 
far  as  my  married  state  is  concerned.  In  thio 
matter  there  is,  certainly,  no  cause  for  fear.  My 
husband  couldn't  become  selfish  under  any  circum 
stances,  and  will  not  fail  me  in  the  hour  of  need,  I 
know.  So  long  as  I  am  strong  and  well,  I  really 
think  it  is  my  duty  to  keep  all  care  from  him,  that 
I  can.  Dearest  mother !  she  can't  exactly  under 
stand  how  I  am  situated.  My  lot  has  been  so  differ 
ent  from  hers.  Dear  George!  how  often  I  long 
to  have  mother  with  us,  that  she  may  see  for  her 
self  how  good,  and  kind,  and  considerate  he  is  to 
her  silly  daughter !  If  I  could  use  my  mind  to  any 
purpose  as  many  wives  can,  it  would  change  the 
aspect  of  things  materially.  But  I,  unfortunately, 
am  only  fit  for  simple,  domestic  duties,  and  can 
make  myself  necessary  to  his  happiness,  only  through 
Uttle  things.  I  will  never  conceal  anything  fron 
him  that  will  increase  his  happiness,  but  I  think  I 
must  not  show  him  this  letter ;  it  would  grieve 
him,  I  fear." 

Ah,  Mary !  you  are  letting  your  heart  and  not 


14:8  FROM  DAWN  TO   DAYLIGHT. 

your  heady  guide  you  now ;  you  have  already 
learned  to  fear,  as  well  as  love  (though  it  would  be 
hard  to  make  you  realize  it),  not  from  a  shadow  of 
coldness  or  harshness  on  his  part,  but  because  you, 
foolishly,  place  too  high  an  estimate  on  mental  quali 
fications,  and  too  low  on  good,  plain  common  sense, 
and  therefore  fear  that  the  latter  will  not  prove  suffi 
cient  to  retain  your  hold  upon  his  affections,  unless 
you  add  to  it  the  sacrifice  of  your  ease  and  quiet, 
to  guard  him  from  annoyance.  Some  men  would 
boon  learn  to  claim  it  as  a  right,  instead  of  receiv 
ing  it  as  the  purest  token  of  deep  and  true  affec 
tion. 

Mrs.  Herbert's  next  letter  was  written  imme 
diately  after  the  receipt  of  her  mother's ;  and  first 
replying  to  the  home  epistle,  she  then  adds : 

"  I  have  delayed  this  longer  than  I  intended, 
and  fear  you  may  have  been  made  anxious  by  it ; 
but  my  reasons  will  prove  an  abundant  excuse,  I 
am  certain. 

"  While  I  was  writing  the  first  part  of  this  letter, 
little  Agnes  came  into  my  room  weeping  bitterly, 
saying  her  mother  wanted  me,  for  little  Charlie  (a 
sweet  boy  about  Susie's  age),  was  very  ill.  I  was 
greatly  shocked.  Not  two  hours  before,  he  was 


IN  A  CHILL.  149 

sitting  on  my  lap,  having  a  grand  frolic  with  my 
little  darling.  I  hastened  to  the  room  and  found 
the  poor  child  in  a  '  ckillj  and  the  symptoms  deve 
loped  were  such,  that  the  family  were  greatly 
alarmed,  and  when  the  physician  came,  he  evi 
dently  shared  their  anxiety. 

"  Afternoon. — I  have  just  left  little  Charlie,  by 
whose  sick-bed  I  have  been  watching,  while  his 
sorrowful  mother  tried  to  rest  a  few  moments. 
Dear  little  fellow !  He  does  not  appear  half  so  ill 
as  our  baby  did — indeed,  she  still  looks  the  sickest 
of  the  two.  But  I  am  sore  afraid  of  this  disease. 
I  can  hardly  tell  why ;  but  ever  since  I  came  West, 
I  have  had  a  strange  dread  of  it.  Every  one  laughs 
at  me  for  it,  and  assures  me  that  it  is  nothing  to  be 
alarmed  at ;  that  it  seldom  proves  anything  serious. 
It  may  be  so,  but  George  attended  four  funerals 
yesterday,  and  has  three  to-day,  from  congestion, 
following  a  chill!  I  had  never  seen  a  case  till 
Charlie  was  attacked,  and  to  me  it  is  something 
very  frightful. 

"  George  has  just  come  in  to  inform  me  that  we 
can  move  at  once  into  the  little  cottage  I  spoke  of 
in  my  last.  It  is  a  week  earlier  than  we  had 
hoped  to  obtain  it.  Mrs.  Jackson  urges  us  to  stay 


150  FEOM  DAWN   TO   DAYLIGHT. 

till  morning,  but  the  house  is  all  ready,  the  family 
who  own  it  have  kindly  left  food  and  all  the  need 
ful  for  to-morrow's  breakfast,  and  we  feel  that  we 
ought  to  relieve  our  afflicted  friends  from  the 
slightest  additional  care,  as  soon  as  possible. 

"  I  will  lay  this  aside  and  finish  after  we  move ; 
our  trunks  are  all  ready,  and  in  a  half  hour  I  shall 
be  getting  tea,  at  home,  once  more. 

"  Thursday  morning. — Oh,  mother !  dear  little 
Charlie  is  dead!  I  have  just  finished  his  little 
robe,  and  dressed  the  darling  boy  for  the  grave ! 
Dear  mother,  there  is  something  so  frightful  in  that 
thought,  when  connected  with  a  "babe!  I  cannot 
bring  myself  to  realize,  but  that  one  so  dependent 
on  maternal  love,  will  be  all  the  while  conscious  of 
the  dreary  loneliness  of  its  last  sad  resting-place, 
and  the  thought  always  makes  me  turn  sick  with 
horror  !  I  earnestly  wish  I  could  divest  myself  of 
this  idea,  and  feel,  as  on  the  burial  of  adults,  that 
God  has  taken  the  spirit  back  to  his  own  loving 
care,  and  that  'tis  only  the  casket  in  -which  He 
placed  our  jewel,  when  He  loaned  it  to  us,  that 
is  hid  in  the  cold  earth. 

"  We  were  sent  for  this  morning,  before  break 
fast,  and  found  the  loved  child  in  convulsions. 


A    FEVER   BREEDER.  151 

Poor  Mrs.  Jackson!  she  is  very  calm,  but  the 
'  iron  has  entered  her  soul,'  and  she  looks  so  frail, 
and  spiritual,  1  can't  but  think  she  will  soon  follow 
her  beloved  child. 

"  I  have  become  truly  attached  to  this  family, 
but  as  the  house  is  full  of  their  relations  and  older 
friends,  I  still  feel  too  much  a  stranger  to  remain 
longer,  as  all  is  done  that  I  can  do.  I  have,  there 
fore,  returned  home,  to  prepare  tea  for  my  hus 
band,  who  is  again  at  a  funeral ;  and  while  I  wait 
for  him,  dear  mother,  I  will  finish  this  long-delayed 
letter. 

"  I  feel  very  sad  and  lonely.  It  is  a  still,  sultry, 
August  day — a  c  fever  breeder,'  as  the  doctor  said 
this  morning.  Little  Susie  has  fallen  asleep  on  the 
settee.  The  clock  ticks  sadly  on  the  mantel,  the 
flies  crawl  lazily  over  the  window,  with  a  ceaseless 
buzz,  that  makes  me  shiver.  The  shadows  of  the 
beautiful  locust-trees  look  ghostly,  as  they  fall 
athwart  the  grass,  or  flicker  noiselessly  in  the  sun 
light,  on  the  floor.  How  painfully  still  it  is! 
How  new  to  me  to  feel  so  listless  and  half  melan 
choly  !  If  I  wasn't  ashamed  of  it,  I  could  easily 
imagine  I  was  going  to  be  sick. 

"  The  quiet  is  so  unearthly  that  it  almost  fright 


152  FROM   DAWN  TO  DAYLIGHT. 

ens  one.  But  there  comes  George,  just  turning  tho 
corner,  and  the  sight  of  his  cheerful,  loving  face 
will  put  all  these  fancies  to  flight. 

"The  clock  has  already  changed  its  dirge-like 
tick,  to  a  lively  tone — the  flies  buzz  merrily  now, 
and  the  locust  shadows  haven't  a  bit  of  a  ghost 
about  them,  but  are  dancing  like  fairies  on  the 
'charmed  green,'  and  the  magician  who  has 
wrought  such  wonderful  changes  is  at  the  door,  so 
good  bye,  my  dear  ones,  and  don't  laugh  at  me  for 
this  foolish  fit  of  the  c  blues.' 

"  Your  own, 

"  MART." 


CHAPTER  X. 

SICKNESS. 

POOR  Mary's  despondency  was  not  all  imagin 
ation,  but  the  precursor  of  illness.  Before  morn 
ing,  the  dreaded  chills  had  her  in  their  power,  and 
in  a  few  hours  her  husband  was  made  captive  also. 

Mrs.  Campbell,  a  kind-hearted  Methodist  neigh 
bor,  took  the  little  puny  Susie  to  her  own  house, 
her  parents  at  the  time  too  ill  to  realize  that  they 
might  never  see  her  again. 

Mr.  Herbert  was  for  some  days  alarmingly  sick ; 
but  his  wife,  from  the  first,  appeared  utterly  pros 
trated,  without  strength  to  rally. 

Her  baby's  name  she  never  mentioned ;  but  it  was 
very  sad  to  listen  to  her  entreaties  to  be  carried  into 
her  husband's  room,  if  but  for  one  look.  "No  word 
of  complaint  for  the  severe  sufferings  she  was  endur 
ing  was  uttered — only  the  one  thought,  her  husband 
was  sick,  and  she  could  not  watch  by  his  side. 

7*  153 


154:  FEOM   DAWN   TO   DAYLIGHT. 

These  were  sharp  trials  for  our  young  friends, 
jfhey  had  entirely  left  out  of  their  calculations  the 
possibility,  that  days  and  nights  of  weariness  and 
pain  could  pass,  unsoothed  by  word  or  look  from 
each  other. 

Mr.  Herbert  was  able  to  visit  his  wife's  bed-side 
at  the  end  of  ten  days.  What  a  change  had  passed 
over  both.  "Weak  as  a  child,  his  feeble  limbs  could 
scarcely  support  him  across  the  room;  and  can 
that  pale,  hollow-eyed  wroman  be  his  blooming 
Mary? 

Mr.  Herbert  gained  rapidly,  as  most  are  ex 
pected  to  do  after  the  "  ague,"  but  there  were  many 
causes  to  retard  his  wife's  recovery.  As  she 
lost  anxiety  for  her  husband,  she  began  to  long 
exceedingly  for  the  poor  little  one,  who  had  been 
so  unceremoniously  made  over  to  the  care  of  others. 
She  accused  herself  of  heartlessness,  because  she 
had  so  easily  yielded  her  to  one  whom  she  had 
never  seen  till  the  day  she  was  taken  ill. 

The  people  of  all  classes  showed  much  deeper 
sympathy  than  Mary's  first  impression  led  her  to 
expect.  One  beautiful  morning,  when  she  had 
been  ill  about  four  weeks,  a  gentleman,  whom  Mr. 
Herbert  had  seen  but  once  (and  who  took  occasion 


THE   FIKST   KIDE.  155 

to  boast  during  the  interview,  that  though  Yankee 
born  and  bred,  lie  hadn't  been  inside  of  a  church 
for  the  last  twenty  years),  rode  up  to  the  gate  with 
a  fine  easy  carriage,  and  a  noble  span  of  bays,  and 
calling  Mr.  Herbert  out,  said  smiling : 

"I  have  come  to  give  you  and  Mrs.  Herbert  a 
ride,  if  you  will  risk  your  neck  with  such  a  heathen 
driver.  You  see,  I've  a  notion  that  Mrs.  Herbert 
will  recover  more  rapidly  if  she  can  see  her  baby. 
Dr.  Marvel  says  it  is  a  first-rate  idea,  and  the  ride 
will  not  hurt  her  at  all. 

"  Many  thanks,  Mr.  Upton,  but  Mrs.  II.  has  not 
set  up  ten  minutes  yet,  and  cannot  walk  as  many 
steps.  I  do  not  think  I  could  possibly  get  her  from 
her  bed  to  your  carriage." 

"  Have  you  lived  in  New  England  all  your  boy 
hood  days,  without  learning  how  to  make  i  a  chair,' 
to  carry  your  sisters  and  playmates  over  the  snow 
drifts  ?"  said  Mr.  Upton,  laughing.  "  I  did  not 
suppose  you  were  strong  enough  yet,  to  bring  the 
lady  here ;  but  step  in  and  help  her  up,  and  then 
we'll  see  if  you  and  I  together  cannot  take  her  to 
the  carriage,  as  gently  as  you  would  carry  your 
baby." 

"You  are  exceedingly  kind," 


156  FEOM   DAWN  TO  DAYLIGHT. 

"  Oh,  nonsense.  Don't  talk  of  that,  man ;  I've 
lived  so  long  among  these  confounded  chills,  thai 
I've  a  soft  spot  in  my  heart  for  all  new-comers  who 
take  the  ague ;  and — well — it  may  as  well  out — to 
tell  the  truth,  sir,  I'm  a  little  ashamed  of  myself, 
for  my  rascally  attempt  at  browbeating  at  our  last 
meeting,  and  also  for  using  rather  c  tall '  language 
to  you.  If  you  had  tried  to  preach  to  me  just  then, 
I  reckon  the  spirit  to-day  would  have  moved  me  to 
turn  my  horses'  heads  in  an  entirely  different  direc 
tion  ;  for,  as  you  have  seen,  I'm  not  a  great  lover  of 
preaching  anyhow,  and  I  certainly  can't  abide  it 
out  of  the  pulpit.  There,  that  joVs  over,  and  now 
let's  have  the  sick  one  ready." 

"With  very  little  fatigue,  Mary  was  removed 
from  the  bed  to  the  carriage ;  and  none  but  those 
who  have  lingered  long  in  the  dismal  confinement 
of  a  sick  room,  can  fully  appreciate  the  privilege 
of  breathing  once  more  the  pure,  sweet  air  and  the 
hope  of  returning  health.  With  equal  gentleness 
and  care,  her  kind  attendants  conveyed  her  into 
Mrs.  Campbell's  tidy  sitting-room,  and  then  Mr. 
Upton  went  in  search  of  the  mistress  of  the 
family,  and  little  Susie. 

A  cradle  stood  near  the  lounge,  and  in  it  a  sweet 


LITTLE   SUSIE.  157 

babe   lay  sleeping.     Mr.  Herbert  rose,  and  bent 
lovingly  over  it. 

"  How  kind  of  Mrs.  Campbell  to  take  charge  of 
our  feeble  baby,  when  she  had  one  of  her  own  so 
near  the  same  age." 

"  Yes,"  said  Mary,  "  she  is  a  noble  woman.  If 
we  could  only  see  our  darling  half  as  healthy,  it 
would  be  such  a  comfort." 

Just  then  the  baby  woke,  and  seeing  only  strange 
faces,  began  to  cry,  and  Mrs.  Campbell  entered  at 
the  same  moment.  After  welcoming  her  guests, 
she  took  the  child,  who  clung  half  frightened  to 
her  neck,  slily  watching  the  intruders. 

"  Don't  think  me  impatient,  dear  Mrs.  C.,"  said 
Mary,  "  but  I  am  anxious  to  see  my  baby." 

"  Then  you  will  not  acknowledge  this  little  part 
ridge?  Forgive  me,  I  ought  not  to  tease  you 
when  you  are  so  weak ;  do  you  not  recognize  little 
Susie?" 

"  Surely  you  do  not  mean  to  say  that  this  stout, 
ruddy  little  girl  is  our  own !" 

"  Certainly.  I  am  surprised  that  you  think  her 
so  changed.  It  has  been  so  gradual  that  I  did  not 
once  imagine  you  would  not  know  her  instantly ; 
and  waited  longer  than  was  consistent  with  good 


158  FROM   DAWN   TO   DAYLIGHT. 

manners,  that  your  first  meeting  might  be  without 
witnesses." 

"  Why,  Mrs.  Campbell,  I  cannot  credit  it.  I  do 
not  see  a  shadow  of  resemblance.  Even  her  eyes 
and  hair  have  changed.  Come  to  mother ',  darling  ! 
Why,  George,  she  doesn't  know  us — her  own  father 
and  mother  /"  And  kind  Mrs.  Campbell  did  not 
think  her  ungrateful,  when  she  hid  her  face  in  the 
pillows  to  conceal  the  tears. 

"  'Tis  rather  hard,  it  must  be  confessed ;  but  I 
cannot  wonder  at  her  shyness,  for  you  are  both  far 
more  changed  than  the  baby.  And  beside,"  added 
she  playfully,  "  she  but  followed  your  example  in 
her  forgetfulness.  The  parents  did  not  know  the 
child — remember." 

It  was  not  long  before  Mr.  Herbert  had  suc 
ceeded  in  coaxing  the  little  one  from  its  foster 
mother's  arms,  and  was  enjoying  a  grand  frolic, 
somewhat  after  the  fashion  of  the  old  times.  Soon, 
one  of  Mrs.  Campbell's  pretty  daughters  brought 
in  a  fragrant  cup  of  tea,  and  some  very  tempting 
viands,  of  which  they  partook  with  more  cheerful 
ness  and  appetite  than  they  had  enjoyed  for  many 
days.  To  leave  their  little  one  was  now  all  the 
harder,  from  having  learned  how  readily  a  child 


A  MERCIFUL  MAN.  159 

may  forget  its  home  and  friends,  and  when  Mr. 
Upton  called  for  them,  he  found  the  mother  ear 
nestly  urging  the  propriety  of  taking  her  home. 
Mrs.  Campbell  would  not  hear  a  word  of  this,  and 
Mrs.  Herbert  reluctantly  agreed  that  it  was  not 
yet  safe. 

"  Beside,"  said  Mr.  Upton,  in  his  quaint  manner, 
"  I  only  bargained  to  drive  the  parson  and  his  wife. 
Couldn't  possibly  take  any  more  load.  <  A  merci 
ful  man  is  merciful  to  his  beast.'  There's  scripture 
for  you,  Mr.  Herbert.  You  see  I  haven't  forgotten 
all  my  New  England  education,  even  if  I  am  such 
a  sad  fellow  as  you  had  good  reason  for  think 
ing  the  other  day." 

"When  they  left  Mrs.  Campbell,  it  was  settled 
that  she  should  bring  the  dear  baby  home  in  a  few 
days,  and  also  a  nice  little  German  girl  she  had 
been  training  to  take  charge  of  her,  and  then,  if 
Mrs.  Herbert  was  still  improving,  she  would  leave 
them  both. 

In  due  time,  the  pet  child  and  her  tidy  little 
maid  returned,  but  the  poor  mother  gained  slowly, 
having  slight  chills  every  day,  and  often  a  week  of 
very  severe  ones.  Mr.  Herbert  meanwhile  began 
to  feel  that  he  was  strong  enough  to  resume  his 


160  FROM   DAWN  TO   DAYLIGHT. 

pulpit  labors.  He  made  the  attempt,  and  closed 
the  afternoon  service  in  a  violent  chill.  Another 
sick  week  was  the  consequence,  though  slight  com 
pared  with  the  first.  And  so  the  winter  passed, 
preaching  two  or  three  Sabbaths,  and  then  laid  by 
for  as  many  more. 

During  one  of  these  attacks,  the  owners  of  the 
cottage  returned,  and  much  sooner  than  was  ex 
pected.  Of  course  our  friends  found  it  necessary 
to  seek  another  tenement  immediately.  A  small 
house  was  secured,  exceedingly  out  of  repair,  and 
in  a  very  uncomfortable  neighborhood.  The  least 
possible  amount  of  furniture  was  provided,  and  for 
that  little  they  were  compelled  to  involve  them 
selves  in  debt,  not  large  to  be  sure,  but  sufficient  to 
cause  them  anxiety,  although  assured  by  the  people, 
that  as  soon  as  the  church  should  become  a  little 
settled,  there  would  be  no  embarrassment  concern 
ing  money  matters. 

Their  new  habitation  proved  so  leaky  and  damp, 
that  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Herbert  were,  in  two  weeks  after 
moving,  again  confined  to  their  room.  The  chills 
returned  with  great  violence,  and  as  the  owrner  of 
the  house  refused  to  make  any  repairs,  they  were, 
after  three  weeks'  trial,  compelled  to  vacate,  and 


PKOMISES   STILL  UNFULFILLED.  161 

seek  another  residence,  or  die.  "With  many  failures 
and  delays,  they  at  length  secured  a  comfortable  lit 
tle  cottage,  with  a  pleasant  garden,  and  found  them 
selves  settled,  by  mid  winter,  with  encouraging  pros 
pects  of  remaining  stationary,  at  least  for  the  year. 

Mrs.  Herbert,  however,  continued  quite  feeble, 
and  being  compelled  to  perform  a  degree  of  labor 
far  beyond  her  strength,  her  recovery  to  the  enjoy 
ment  of  anything  like  comfortable  health  was  very 
doubtful. 

They  could  not  procure  a  servant,  for  they  had 
not  the  means;  and  having  learned  by  this  time 
that  fair  words  and  soft  speeches  could  not  clothe 
the  naked  or  feed  the  hungry,  they  were  again 
compelled  to  secure  boarders  to  supply  themselves 
with  the  necessaries  of  life ;  and,  feeble  and  worn 
with  repeated  illness,  this  was  far  more  reluctantly 
resorted  to  than  when  at  Glenville.  There,  all  was 
done  for  them  that  their  people  were  able  to  do,  and 
in  many  cases  even  more ;  and  the  closest  economy 
and  incessant  toil  were  easier  borne,  because  abso 
lutely  necessary.  In  Norton  there  was  no  such 
necessity. 

There  was  wealth  in  abundance  among  theii 
uew  people.  The  money  wasted  on  parties  and 


162  FEOM  DAWN   TO   DAYLIGHT. 

frivolous  amusements  every  few  weeks,  would  have 
comfortably  supported  their  pastor's  family  a  year, 
and  given  his  wife  an  opportunity  to  rest  and 
r  3gain  her  strength. 

Yet  the  church  at  Norton  loved  them,  there 
sould  be  no  doubt  of  that ;  but  they  had  not  been 
taught  to  feel  that  a  minister's  labors  were  worth 
paying  for.  Is  it  not  surprising  that  there  should 
be  in  the  world  good,  kind,  sensible  people,  who, 
after  a  man  has  given  labor  and  money  freely,  for 
many  years  of  his  life,  to  prepare  himself  for  their 
service,  are  content  that  he  should  come  among 
them,  and  devote  time,  talents,  and  his  wrhole  heart 
to  them,  yet  feel  that  every  farthing  they  dole  out  for 
his  support,  is  something  to  be  proud  of — an  act  of 
charity?  If  they  employed  a  physician,  or  a 
lawyer,  would  they,  instead  of  a  fee,  make  them  a 
present  of  some  trine,  and  go  away  pluming  them 
selves  on  their  generosity  ?  Why  should  medical 
and  legal  service  be  more  highly  appreciated  than 
the  patient  labors  of  a  minister  of  the  Gospel  ? 


CHAPTER    XI. 

ADVICE    GIVING. 

"THE  winter  was  over  and  gone,  the  birds 
whistled  sweet  on  the  spray,"  the  lawn  was 
decked  in  its  robe  of  purest  green,  the  warm 
spring  sun  was  whispering  lovingly  to  the  lit 
tle  leaves  to  wake  and  come  forth  from  their 
winter  homes,  and  the  early  flowers  were  just 
showing  their  pretty  buds,  when  a  darling  son 
was  added  to  the  heart  treasures  in  the  pastor's 
abode.  But  the  mother,  enfeebled  by  the  obstinate 
chills  and  great  over-exertion  of  the  past  year,  lay 
many  weeks,  hovering  between  life  and  death ;  and 
just  as  she  began  to  resume  her  usual  life  of  care 
and  labor,  the  baby  returned  to  God  who  gave  it. 
Trials  had  multiplied  around  their  path  steadily  ; 
but  though,  for  a  moment,  cast  down  and  dis 
heartened,  they  had  met  and  overcome  them  by 
patience  and  cheerful  courage.  But  this  was  the 

163 


164  FROM  DAWN  TO  DAYLIGHT. 

first  of  life's  darker  shadows— one  of  those  which 
sink  into  the  depths  of  the  heart,  and  though  hid 
den  from  all  eyes,  nor  time,  nor  change,  nor  pros 
perity  even,  can  ever  dispel.  Bitterly  did  Mary 
mourn  for  her  baby  boy,  and  Mr.  Herbert  also 
felt  the  loss  most  deeply.  But  poverty  cannot  in 
dulge  in  the  luxury  of  grief,  and  heart-sorrows 
must  not  stand  in  the  way  of  duties  and  labors 
which  a  pastor  owes  his  people.  The  relation  of 
minister  and  people  is  generally  viewed  as  a  sort 
of  one-sided  obligation.  The  labor  is  exacted  to  the 
uttermost  farthing — the  pay  is  of  less  consequence, 
and  may  wait  a  more  convenient  season. 

And  poor  Mary  must  force  back  the  tears,  reserv 
ing  that  luxury  for  the  lonely  night's  watches,  and 
struggle  up  again,  as  best  she  can,  to  household 
labors  and  anxieties.  And  very  heavy  were  these 
burdens  for  her  feeble  strength.  None  may  realize 
them,  save  those  who  have  passed  through  the  deep 
and  troubled  waters  of  a  western  missionary's  life. 
Her  work  must  be  done  and  well  done,  and  always 
prompt,  or  she  would  lose  her  boarders;  and  if 
forced  to  resign  that  mode  of  adding  to  their  sup 
port,  what  could  she  do?  Certainly  not  resort 
to  her  needle  again.  "What  could  she  accomplish 


A  EIGHT  MOTHEELT   TALK.  165 

with  that  in  her  present  health  ?  She  could  more 
easily  drag  her  aching  limbs  or  shivering  frame 
about  the  house,  than  attempt  to  "stitch,  stitch, 
stitch,  seam,  gusset  and  band,"  with  her  blue, 
chilled  fingers — for  scarce  a  day  now  passed  with 
out  a  chill. 

It  was  irritating  to  her  over-taxed  nerves,  and 
yet  a  source  of  merriment  sometimes  to  herself 
and  husband,  to  listen  to  the  curious  and  contra 
dictory  advice  which  was  daily  volunteered,  as  to 
the  management  of  their  private  affairs.  Gratui 
tous  advice  is,  I  believe,  a  part  of  every  clergyman's 
experience ;  but  it  is  not  often  of  the  same  char 
acter  as  that  which  our  friends  received. 

Mrs.  Tompkins,  a  near  neighbor,  was  sure  Mrs. 
Herbert  could  get  along  with  less  expense,  if  she 
"  would  only  hear  to  reason,  and  not  be  so  c  set '  in 
her  own  way." 

One  day  the  good  dame  told  her  husband,  she 
felt  it  her  duty  to  go  over  and  have  a  right  motherly 
talk  with  the  Dominie's  wife ;  and  as  such  "  duties  " 
are  in  no  danger  of  being  neglected,  not  many 
hours  elapsed  before  she  had  waited  upon  herself 
into  the  kitchen,  where  Mary  was  at  work,  remark 
ing  that  she  always  "  allowed  "  to  make  herself  at 


168  FROM   DAWN   TO   DAYLIGHT. 

home  wherever  she  went,  and  "liked  to  see  people 
in  the  '  thick '  of  their  work." 

Mrs.  Herbert  must  of  course  leave  her  bread 
half  kneaded,  and  sit  down  with  her  guest,  who 
assured  her  she  wasn't  going  to  stay  "but  a  minute," 
just  for  a  word. 

"  You  are  a  young  woman,"  said  she,  "  and  I  felt 
like  it  would  be  neighborly  to  step  in  and  give 
you  a  little  advice.  You  can't  be  expected  to  be 
as  cute  in  managing  as  them  as  is  older  and  had  a 
heap  of  experience. 

"  i>Tow,  you  see,  it's  sheer  folly  to  expect  to  make 
anything  by  keeping  boarders,  with  your  genteel 
notions.  Just  you  listen  to  me,  now.  Turn  them 
adrift — get  along  with  two  rooms,  and  under-rent 
the  rest  of  the  house;  that'll  be  so  much  saved, 
don't  you  see  ?  Why,  Tompkins  and  I  never  had 
but  one  room  for  six  years  after  we  were  married, 
and  had  three  children  to  care  for.  And  then,  you 
are  too  f  sit  and  high-going '  in  your  ideas  of  house 
keeping.  You  think  you  must  have  three  meals 
a-day,  and  the  table  regularly  set  each  time,  and  I 
seed  as  I  passed  through  your  dining-room  a  table 
cloth  on,  for  all  the  world  as  if  you  were  expecting 
company — have  to,  I  s'pose,  if  you  keep  boarders, 


"WHAT'S  THE  USE."  167 

and  pies  or  puddings,  I'll  warrant,  every  day  for 
dinner. 

"  Well,  now  I'll  tell  you :  'fore  Tompkins  made 
his  money  we  got  into  the  way  of  arly  rising — for 
we  had  to  scratch  proper  hard,  I  tell  you.  But 
the  children,  poor  dears,  don't  like  to  get  up 
o'  mornings ;  and,  says  I  to  Tompkins,  4  let  them 
sleep,  and  take  their  ease  while  they  are  young. 
Long's  their  pap's  rich,  what's  the  use  o'  having 
them  up  ?'  Well,  as  I  was  saying,  Tompkins  and  I 
get  up  still  pretty  early  (no  need  for  it  now,  only 
'tis  habit,  I  s'pose),  we  have  our  breakfast — a  cup 
of  coffee,  bread  and  butter,  and  a  bit  of  cold  meat, 
does  well  enough  for  us — (s'pose  from  what  I  hear, 
you  have  all  sorts  of  warm  fixings}.  We  take  our 
meals  in  the  kitchen,  on  the  pine  table  and  with 
out  a  cloth,  when  we  have  no  company,  and  our 
kitchen  ain't  half  as  nice  as  your'n.  You  see, 
when  we  built,  I  told  Tompkins  to  fix  up  anything, 
cheap,  for  the  kitchen  and  rooms  for  help,  and  put 
more  money  into  the  fancy  part  of  the  house.  !Nbt 
but  what  we  could  afford  to  have  all  parts  fine  >  lut 
what's  the  use  ? 

"  Well,  as  I  was  saying,  we  just  leave  the  coffee 
on  the  stove  and  the  table  standing,  and  when  the 


1G8  FKOM  DAWN   TO   DAYLIGHT. 

hired  man  and  girl  get  through  their  milking,  they 
help  themselves,  and  the  young  folks  come  down, 
one  after  another,  justs  as  it  suit  them.  Now,  don't 
interrupt;  just  let  me  talk,  and  tell  you  all  about 
it.  Half  the  time  we  don't  have  a  regular  din 
ner.  If  we  get  hungry,  nothing  easier,  you  know, 
than  to  go  to  the  cupboard  and  help  ourselves.  A 
cup  of  tea  and  some  meat  for  supper  is  all  we  do. 

"  "When  we  have  company,  why,  that's  another 
thing.  I  reckon  then  on  a  grand  How  out,  and 
get  out  my  silver,  and  china  (Tompkins  paid  one 
hundred  and  twenty  dollars  for  that  set,  in  ISTew 
York),  and  damask  table-cloths,  and  we  all  turn  in 
and  cook  everything  nice,  that  we  can  hear  or 
think  of,  and  when  His  over  we  take  a  week  or 
two's  resting  spell. 

"  Now  you  needn't  have  company ;  'tisn't  ex 
pected  of  a  preacher's  family  ;  excepting  a  country 
parson,  now  and  then,  or  travelling  agent,  or  dele 
gate,  or  such  like"  (which  generally  means  having 
an  extra  plate  about  every  other  meal,  thought 
Mary),  "  and  if  you'd  just  do  like  we  do,  when 
alone,  you  needn't  work  half  so  hard,  and  it 
wouldn't  cost  so  much,  by  two  hundred  dollars  a 
year,  to  support  you;  and  then,  you  see,  the 


CLOSE   ECONOMY.  169 

church  is  young — hardly  on  its  feet  yet,  and  by 
being  saving,  you  could  relinquish  at  least  that 
much  of  your  salary  and  live  on  the  rest." 

Mary  had  been  listening  impatiently  to  this  long 
lecture,  and  occasionally  casting  an  anxious  eye  to 
the  clock,  thinking  if  the  call  was  extended  much 
'  longer  she  should  be  obliged  to  hurry  beyond  her 
strength,  to  have  dinner  in  season,  and  as  the  good 
lady  paused  for  lack  of  breath,  she  rose,  saying, 

"  You  must  excuse  me,  at  least  for  a  time,  Mrs. 
Tompkins  ;  my  bread  will  spoil,  and  my  dinner  be 
late." 

"  Well,  but  promise  me  you  will  do  as  I  advise. 
Come,  now,  I  must  have  your  promise,  so  that  I 
can  tell  my  man,  when  he  comes  in,  that  you  won't 
want  them  two  hundred  dollars.  It's  a  promise, 
ain't  it?" 

"!Nb,  Mrs.  Tompkins,"  said  Mary,  who  had 
borne  till  patience  was  no  longer  a  virtue.  "  JSTo, 
indeed !  It  is  to  save  something  for  the  church, 
instead  of  relieving  me  from  hard  labor,  and  my 
husband  from  anxiety,  it  seems,  about  which  you 
are  so  anxious.  Why,  madam,  the  church  has 
been  largely  in  our  debt  ever  since  we  came,  and 
has  never  paid  up  the  full  amount  promised,  nor 

8 


170  FROM   DAWN   TO   DAYLIGHT. 

anything,  without  constant  solicitation.  I  cannot 
make  the  promise  you  require.  The  money  we 
must  have,  or  leave — or  die,  Mrs.  T.  And  as  for 
arranging  household  affairs  after  your  pattern,  you 
must  excuse  me.  1  could  not  do  it.  It  may  "be  the 
best  and  most  comfortable  way  for  you,  but  for 
myself  and  husband  it  would  be  intolerable.  It 
wouldn't  be  living.  I  trust  you  will  not  be 
offended  if  I  speak  plainly ;  but  indeed,  madam,  I 
cannot  but  feel  that  each  one  should  manage  their 
private  affairs  according  to  their  own  ideas  of  right, 
without  interference,  otherwise  there  can  be  no 
home;  and  I  see  no  reason  why  a  clergyman's 
family  should  not  have  that  privilege,  as  well  as 
others." 

"  Beg  pardon  !  beg  pardon  !  I  might  have 
known  that  a  c  Yankee '  would  be  too  self-import 
ant  to  take  advice  from  any  one.  Good  morning. 
Interference  indeed !  I  shan't  interfere  with  your 
affairs  again  in  a  hurry,  I  can  tell  you,"  and  she 
flounced  out  of  the  room  in  great  wrath. 

Poor  Mary !  Her  head  reeled,  and  her  eyes 
were  throbbing.  She  feared  she  had  been  too  im 
patient,  and  longed  to  sit  down  and  find  relief  in  a 
hearty  cry.  But  that  would  not  do.  The  bread 


SPECULATIONS.  171 

would  be  sour  and  the  dinner  late,  if  she  yielded 
to  any  such  folly. 

"  How  could  she  be  so  cruel  ?"  said  she,  half 
aloud,  and  little  Susie  opened  her  great,  blue  eyes, 
and  shook  her  wise  little  head,  saying : 

"  Susie  tell  papa ;  naughty  Topsins  scold  poor 
mamma." 

Mr.  Tompkins  began  the  world  with  a  "fip" 
(Hoosier  for  sixpence),  in  Pennsylvania,  and  specu 
lated  with  that,  till  he  had  the  wherewithal  to 
take  him  out  "  "West "  to  a  river  town,  and  set  up 
a  cigar  stall.  He  prospered,  and  took  to  himself 
a  wife — a  poor,  uneducated,  but  industrious  girl. 
He  then  built  a  log  cabin,  with  only  one  room,  as 
Mrs.  Tompkins  has  said.  While  he  traded  cigars 
and  candies,  she  washed  for  the  boatmen  who 
stopped  near,  or  carded,  spun  and  wove  for  the 
neighboring  farmers.  They  lived  in  the  rudest 
manner,— everything  they  touched  turned  to 
money,  and  was  carefully  invested  in  petty 
speculations. 

In  six  years  he  moved  to  Norton,  with  property 
that  warranted  his  going  into  business  on  a  larger 
scale,  and  now,  after  a  residence  of  over  twenty  years, 
he  had  built  the  finest  house  in  the  city,  and  fui 


172  FEOM  DAWN   TO   DAYLIGHT. 

nished  it  to  correspond.  That  was  all  for  show. 
"When  by  themselves,  they  lived  just  as  Ms  wife 
had  described.  And  this  woman's  husband  was 
worth  half  a  million,  yet  felt  that  their  pastor 
ought  to  give  up  two  hundred  dollars  of  his  scanty 
support,  to  save  his  people  the  necessity  of  con 
tributing  so  liberally!  O  selfishness!  thou  art 
hydra-headed,  but  hopelessly  blind. 

When  papa  returned,  "  Susie  "  made  her  threat 
ened  complaint  of  "  Topsins,"  in  the  hearing  of  the 
young  gentlemen,  before  her  mother  could  check 
her. 

"What  is  it?"  said  Mr.  Herbert ;  "I  don't  quite 
understand  the  child.  I  wonder  if  you  have  been 
receiving  a  lecture  as  well  as  myself.  Don't  look 
so  inquisitive.  I  shan't  relate  my  experience,  my 
dear,  till  I've  had  the  benefit  of  yours." 

Mrs.  Herbert  gave  a  concise  explanation  of  the 
morning's  trial,  to  the  amusement,  as  well  as  indig 
nation  of  her  auditors. 

"And  so  we  are  to  be  shipped,"  said  young 
Burgess. 

"  Possession  is  nine  points  of  the  law,"  replied 
Stanly,  "  and  I,  for  one,  think  I  shall  resist,  if  you 
attempt  to  serve  a  writ  of  ejectment  against  me." 


INDEPENDENT  AIRS.  173 

"But,  Mr.  Herbert,  pray  let's  liave  your 
adventures.  I  presume  '  Pap '  Tompkins  lias 
been  giving  you  the  counterpart  of  his  wife's 
lecture." 

"  Yes,  very  nearly.  Only  he  thinks  because  my 
wife  is  pretty,  I  am  rather  too  easily  influenced, 
and  yield  to  her  -fine  notions  too  readily — I  don't 
govern  her  with  real  apostolic  strictness  it  seems. 
So,  my  lady,  you  may  look  for  vigorous  discipline 
after  this." 

"  That's  too  rich,"  said  Townly.  He  dare  not 
move  without  Mrs.  Tompkins'  consent.  It  is  noto 
rious.  He  might  have  sat  for  the  portrait  of 
Caudle." 

"  Oh,  of  course ;  but  that's  no  reason  why  he 
shouldn't  treat  himself  to  a  few  independent  airs, 
when  out  of  her  sight,  poor  fellow !  Why,  young 
gentlemen,  if  you  were  to  hear  some  of  my  high- 
sounding,  brave  speeches  when  away  from  home, 
you  would  almost  believe  I  was  master  of  my  own 
household.  I  cheat  myself  into  that  belief  quite 
often. 

"  But  do  you  know,  wife,  I'm  going  to  dig  up  all 
your  silly  flowers  in  the  front  yard,  and  plant 
potatoes  and  cabbages  instead.  You  entice  me 


174:  FROM   DAWN   TO   DAYLIGHT. 

into  spending  a  great  deal  of  precious  time  over 
tii em,  wliich  I  SLmjpaid  to  devote  to  the  interest  of 
the  church  /" 

"  The  heathen  !"  said  Burgess.  "  "What  did  you 
say?" 

"  I  trust  you  were  more  prudent  and  better 
natured  than  I  was,"  said  Mrs.  Herbert. 

"  Not  I,  believe  me.  I  gave  him  the  benefit  of 
my  thoughts,  without  stopping  to  choose  my  words, 
and  trust,  if  he  repeats  the  conversation,  it  will 
warn  others  to  let  our  private  affairs  alone  for  the 
future." 

Weeks  went  by,  and  neither  ]Vlr.  nor  Mrs.  Tomp- 
kins  spoke  to  them,  after  this  conversation,  and  if 
they  saw  them  in  the  street,  were  careful  to  give 
them  a  wide  berth,  and  a  total  alienation  was  fully 
expected. 

One  night,  some  weeks  after,  our  friends  were 
roused  from  sleep  by  Dr.  Marvel,  who  requested 
Mrs.  Herbert  to  hasten  over  to  Mr.  Tompkins',  at 
once,  as  one  of  their  daughters  was  very  ill. 

She  found  the  house  all  confusion — Mrs.  Tomp 
kins  in  hysterics,  and  utterly  incapacitated  for  any 
exertion,  and  though  there  were  many  neighbors 
and  friends  present,  as  was  the  custom  in  cases  of 


RETURNING  GOOD  FOR  EVIL.         175 

extreme  or  sudden  illness,  they  were  more  inclined 
to  make  pious  reflections  and  sympathetic  remarks, 
than  to  act  efficiently  or  calmly. 

Mr.  Tompkins  alone  was  self-possessed  and  able 
to  assist ;  but  there  was  such  speechless,  hopeless 
anguish  in  every  line  of  his  face,  that  it  was  more 
distressing  than  violent  grief. 

O  O 

For  two  days  and  nights  Mrs.  Herbert  never  left 
that  sorrowful  abode,  trusting  her  little  girl  and 
household  cares  with  her  husband,  the  sympa 
thizing  boarders,  and  a  young  friend  who  volun 
teered  to  remain  with  little  Susie,  when  her  father 
was  obliged  to  join  his  wife  in  care  for  the  afflicted 
ones,  or  was  engaged  in  other  and  important  duties. 

The  morning  of  the  third  day  the  sufferer  was 
released,  and  even  when  the  last  sad  offices  were 
rendered,  the  mourners  clung  to  Mrs.  Herbert, 
beseeching  her  to  remain ;  but  she  was  exhausted, 
and  obliged  to  return  home.  This  severe  tax  on 
her  strength  confined  her  to  her  bed  several  weeks 
with  a  serious  illness.  Her  kind  attention  in  their 
deep  afflictions,  and  her  sufferings  following,  were 
never  forgotten  by  the  Tompkins  family.  Many  a 
nice  bit  found  its  way  to  the  "  Dominie's  "  during 
her  sickness,  and  any  one  who  complained  of 


176  FROM   DAWN   TO   DAYLIGHT. 

Mr.  Herbert,  or  found  fault  with  liis  wife,  from 
that  time  forward,  were  sure  to  receive  a  more 
formidable  lecture  than  those  we  have  recorded. 
They  could  not  do  wrong,  and  it  was  no  transient, 
impulsive  feeling,  manifested  during  the  freshness 
of  their  grief,  but  an  enduring  affection,  flowing 
out  toward  those  who  had  served  them  in  their 
hour  of  darkness — quiet,  but  most  effectual  in  its 
developments. 

"When  Mrs.  Herbert  began  to  sit  up,  Grandpa 
Tompkins,  as  he  had  taught  Susie  to  call  him, 
hovered  about  her  sick-room,  as  patient  and  gentle 
as  a  woman,  grudging  any  service  or  care  that  he 
could  not  render  himself.  It  was  amusing  to  see 
the  earnest,  and  often  laughable  manifestations  of 
the  old  man's  solicitude  and  affection,  and  his 
wife's  now  gentle  and  unobtrusive  kindness. 

One  morning,  soon  after  breakfast,  Mr.  Herbert 
was  washing  the  dishes,  and  his  wife,  sitting,  pale 
and  trembling,  trying  to  wipe  them,  when,  from 
the  window,  they  saw  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Tompkins 
crossing  the  lawn.  Their  visits  had  been  very  fre 
quent  of  late,  and  always  the  harbinger  of  some 
genuine  kindness,  but  it  was  seldom  that  both 
came  together,  or  so  early  in  the  morning. 


AN  AMUSING   SCENE.  177 

"  Our  good  friends  have  some  great  plan  on 
foot,  I'm  sure,"  said  Mr.  Herbert,  judging  by  their 
earnest,  conscious  looks. 

"  "Well,  we  may  be  certain  now"  replied  Mary, 
"  that  it  will  be  something  kind." 

Their  look  of  amazement,  when  they  saw  Mr. 
Herbert's  occupation,  was  so  irresistibly  comic,  that 
he  dropped  his  dish-towel  and  laughed  heartily. 
Mrs.  Tompkins  joined  him,  exclaiming,  "Well, 
now,  did  I  ever  /"  But  Mr.  Tompkins  stood  for  a 
moment  perfectly  amazed,  rolling  his  quid  over 
and  over  in  his  mouth.  Then  thrusting  his  tongue 
into  his  cheek,  with  a  peculiar  knowing  wink  to  his 
wife,  he  marched  sturdily  up  to  Mary,  and  wrap 
ping  the  shawl  around  her,  picked  her  up,  chair 
and  all,  as  if  she  had  been  a  mere  doll,  and  walked 
straight  across  to  his  own  house. 

"Stop,  thief!  stop,  thief!"  cried  Mr.  Herbert, 
as  he  and  Mrs.  Tompkins,  with  Susie  in  her  arms, 
followed,  as  well  as  they  could  for  laughing ;  and 
the  boarders,  who  had  devoted  a  part  of  the  morn 
ings,  during  Mrs.  Herbert's  illness,  to  assisting 
in  the  garden,  dropped  their  tools  and  joined  in  the 
frolic. 

In  much  less  time  than  it  has  taken  to  write  this 
8* 


178  FEOM  DAWN   TO   DAYLIGHT. 

little  incident,  the  bewildered  invalid  was  safely 
landed  in  the  pleasant  parlor,  and  when  the 
merry  followers  joined  them  there,  Mr.  Tompkins 
stood  rubbing  his  hands  with  evident  satisfaction 
and  self-congratulation. 

"  There  now,  wife,  I  say  that's  a  better  way  than 
to  have  tried  argufying  with  the  Dominie,  and  per 
haps  been  worsted  after  all.  Anyhow,  Mr.  Her 
bert,  if  you  don't  like  it,  you  can  just  take  the 
chair  and  your  wife,  and  carry  them  back  again. 
You'll  find  it  something  of  a  lift,  though,  I'm 
thinking." 

"  I  shan't  try  it,  you  may  be  sure,  sir.  But  what 
does  this  all  mean  ?  Are  you  in  the  habit  of  enter 
ing  your  neighbor's  houses,  and  walking  off  with 
their  wives  in  this  style  ?" 

"Not  exactly.  But,  you  see,  I  couldn't  stand 
seeing  that  woman  at  work,  and  she  so  pale  and 
shaky." 

"Why,"  said  Mrs.  Tompkins,  "we  got  Dr. 
Marvel's  consent,  and  came  this  beautiful  morning 
to  invite  you  to  spend  the  day  with  us,  boarders 
and  all ;  and  see  if  a  change  wouldn't  do  your  wife 
good  ;  but  when  we  saw  what  you  were  at,  every 
thing  went  out  of  my  head  but  laughing;  and  if 


A    CAPITAL   IDEA.  179 

my  man,  here,  hadn't  started  for  home  the  way 
he  did,  I  don't  know  as  I  should  have  remembered 
what  I  came  for." 

"  It's  a  capital  idea,"  said  Stanly. 

"  Yes,  and  capitally  earned  out"  rejoined  Bur 
gess.  "  And  now  Mr.  Herbert  may  as  well  finish 
his  dishes,  and  we  l)oys  will  return  and  put  the 
last  touch  to  that  weedy  patch,  and  then  go  to  our 
work." 

"  You  can  do  just  as  you  please,  gentlemen; 
but  Mr.  Herbert  must  go  with  Tompkins,  to  see 
some  sick  folks,  and  I'll  see  that  the  women's  work 
is  cared  for." 

"  Mrs.  Herbert  found  the  freedom  and  rest  from 
care  delightful ;  but  said  she  should  feel  more  natu 
ral  if  she  had  some  little  piece  of  sewing,  to  busy 
herself  with,  and  requested  that  her  work-basket 
might  be  sent  for.  But  Agnes  Tompkins  stepped 
to  the  table,  and  handing  her  a  bundle,  said — 

"  Mother  thought  you'd  never  be  easy  without 
something  in  your  hands,  and  therefore  sent  me  to 
the  store  for  this,  last  night ;  Sister  Essie  and  I  are 
to  help  make  them." 

On  opening  the  bundle,  there  was  material  for 
four  pretty  summer  dresses,  and  white  linen  for 


180  FROM   DAWN    TO   DAYLIGHT. 

aprons  for  Susie,  which  were  soon  prepared  by 
the  willing  hands  of  the  young  ladies. 

Mrs.  Herbert  noticed  through  the  day  that  every 
little  while  Mrs.  Tompkins,  or  one  of  her  daugh 
ters,  would  disappear  for  a  few  moments,  and  on 
returning,  some  significant  glance  passed  between 
them,  but  nothing  was  said. 

Toward  night,  the  invalid  returned  home.  Mary 
insisting  that  she  could  walk  the  few  steps  across 
the  way,  aided  by  her  husband,  while  Mr.  Tomp 
kins  followed  with  the  chair,  and  his  wife  with  Susie. 

The  mystery  was  then  explained.  Their  kind 
friend  had  taken  the  house-cleaning  into  her  own 
hands,  and  it  had  been  thoroughly  finished  from  top 
to  bottom,  and  she  priding  herself  on  being  able  to 
prove  to  Mr.  Herbert's  satisfaction  that  he  could 
not  complain  of  his  books  or  papers  being  confused 
or  misplaced.  They  then  bade  each  other  good 
night,  Mrs.  Tompkins  stopping,  as  she  said,  "just 
for  a  last  word,"  to  advise  Mr.  Herbert  to  examine 
the  closets  and  pantries,  and  see  if  there  was  any 
thing  missing. 

The  tone  with  which,  this  was  said  convinced 
them  that  there  was  something  more  than  sport  in 
the  advice,  and  George  concluded  to  follow  it. 


TRUE   FRIENDSHIP.  181 

But  in  a  moment  he  was  back,  insisting  upon  draw 
ing  his  wife's  chair  into  the  store  closet,  that  she 
might  join  in  the  examination.  Oh !  how  easy  a 
thing  it  is  for  true  friendship  to  lighten  heavy- 
laden  hearts,  and  cause  them  to  sing  for  joy  ! 

There  was  flour,  sugar,  tea,  coffee,  rolls  of  nice 
butter,  a  ham  ready  cooked,  and  several  uncooked ; 
loaves  of  bread,  still  warm,  cake  and  pies  in  pro 
fusion. 

"  Look !"  said  Mary,  "  there  are  two  pans  of  milk 
that  must  have  just  been  strained,  for  see,  the  foam 
is  still  on  them." 

A  gentle,  contented  "low"  near  the  window 
where  she  sat,  caused  them  both  to  start,  and  raise 
the  curtain,  and  there,  tied  to  a  stake,  close  by, 
stood  a  beautiful  brindle  cow. 

"  Oh,  husband,  I  was  saying  at  the  table  this 
evening,  while  partaking  of  that  delicious  cream,  at 
our  good  friend's  tea-table,  what  a  luxury  I  should 
esteem  it,  could  we  afford  to  keep  a  cow — and  here 
it  is." 

Could  their  friends  have  seen  them  as  they 
stood  in  that  little  closet,  among  the  gifts  so 
unexpectedly  showered  upon  them,  they  would 
have  been  abundantly  paid  for  all  their  efforts. 


182  FROM   DAW:fr    TO   DAYLIGHT. 

"  I  will  help  you  back  to  your  room,  dear  wife, 
and  then  I  must  run  over  and  say  one  word,  or  I 
shan'b  sleep  to-night." 

But,  once  in  the  midst  of  those  who  had  been  so 
thoughtful,  the  words  would  not  come.  lie  could 
only,  with  glistening  eyes,  shake  each  one  affec 
tionately  by  the  hand,  and  look  his  thanks,  and 
that  wTas  even  more  expressive  than  words  could 
have  been. 

"There,  now,  we  know  just  what  you  want  to 
say  ('tis  the  first  time  though,  I  ever  saw  you  at  a 
loss  for  words),  Mr.  Herbert.  You  see,  my  woman 
and  I  have  never  felt  happy  since  we  tried  to 
'gough'  you  out  of  them  two  hundred  dollars. 
We'd  acted  like  better  Christians,  I  reckon,  if  we 
had  added  two  'more. 

"  My  boys  and  I  have  done  the  happiest  day's 
work  of  all  our  lives,  picking  up  those  little  articles, 
and  the  woman  and  girls  have  been  even  with  us. 
If  they  can  make  your  good  lady's  mind  easier, 
till  she  gets  strong,  we  shall  be  twice  glad.  I  wish 
I  could  open  other  people's  eyes  to  the  worth  of 
preaching,  and  the  value  of  a  good  pastor,  as  fully 
as  ours  have  been ;  but  not  as  ours  were  opened — 
oh,  no !  If  they  will  only  wake  up  now,  perhaps 


183 

they'll  escape  learning  the  lesson  as  painfully  as 
we  have." 

"  But  the  cow,  my  clear  sir — the  cow." 

"She  was  our  Annie's"  brindle,  said  the  old  man, 
sobbing;  "one  that  she  petted,  and  loved  ever  since 
it  was  a  week  old.  The  morning  after  we  lost  our 
darling,  it  almost  broke  my  heart  to  hear  c  brindle ' 
lowing  about,  and  rubbing  her  head  on  my  shoulder, 
as  if  she  wanted  to  ask  why  her  mistress  had  neg 
lected  her,  and  I  vowed  then,  that  Mrs.  Herbert 
should  have  her.  I  only  waited  till  she  would  be 
of  service,  to  send  her  over,  and  the  milk  on  your 
shelves  is  her  first.  My  boys  will  take  her  to  the 
pasture  and  bring  her  home  with  ours. 

"  Now,  run  off  and  look  to  our  child,  for  such 
we  shall  always  claim  her,  if  she  will  let  us.  Tell 
her  not  to  hurt  herself  being  grateful — we  are  the 
debtors,  and  always  shall  be." 

I  trust  our  readers  are  not  wearied  with,  this 
sketch  of  Mr.  Tompkins'  family.  Such  as  they  were 
now,  they  ever  remained,  always  watching  to  do 
good,  to  save  their  pastor  from  trouble,  and  many 
times  Mr.  Herbert  must  have  been  compelled  to 
relinquish  his  charge,  if  it  had  not  been  for  some 
timely  aid  from  those  friends,  who  always  seem  to 
know  instinctively,  when  to  come  to  the  rescue. 


CHAPTER  XII. 

A   CHAPTER   ON    "  HELP." 

DURING  the  past  year,  Mrs.  Herbert  had  occa 
sionally  been  compelled  by  ill-liealth  to  hire  a  ser 
vant — or,  as  they  were  called,  "h-clp" — and  her 
experience  was,  in  many  instances,  of  the  most 
serio-comical  kind. 

At  this  period,  there  were  but  three  classes  of 
servants  to  be  obtained — the  Hoosier,  German,  and 
runaway,  or  free  colored  persons. 

The  Hoosier  girls,  who  could  be  persuaded  to 
"  work  out,"  were  slatternly,  uninformed  and  indo 
lent,  and  withal  so  conscious  of  living  in  a  free 
country  (thousands  of  slaves  almost  in  their  sight, 
notwithstanding),  that  all  the  work  they  did  was 
felt  to  be  a 'condescension  on  their  part,  which  de 
manded  from  their  employers  the  largest  amount 
of  gratitude,  and,  at  the  same  time,  the  highest 
wages.  After  remaining  long  enough  in  "  a  place  v 

184 


THE   THREE    CLASSES.  185 

to  receive  the  means  of  purchasing  a  new  "  gound" 
a  bonnet,  a  bit  of  ribbon,  and  a  few  yards  of  lace? 
they  would  leave  without  a  moment's  warning,  and 
stay  idly  at  home,  or  sporting  their  finery  among 
their  neighbors,  until  the  dress  was  bedraggled  and 
torn,  and  the  bonnet  too  shabby  for  further  display, 
and  then  they  were  again  ready  to  inflict  them 
selves  upon  some  poor,  sick  woman,  who  must  have 
a  few  hours'  service,  even,  at  the  price  of  so  undesir 
able  an  inmate. 

The  Dutch  population  were,  generally  speaking, 
exceedingly  dirty,  ignorant,  and  supremely  selfish, 
— unmoved  by  kindness  or  compassion,  thinking 
only  for  the  "  silver,"  and  taking  good  care  to  get 
as  much  of  that  as  possible,  for  the  least  amount 
of  labor. 

The  colored  people  were  mostly  a  lazy,  good- 
natured  race,  content  if  they  could  bask  in  the 
sunshine,  or  sit  over  a  large  fire  in  the  kitchen — 
knowing  just  enough  of  freedom  to  be  unwilling 
to  submit  to  dictation  or  control. 

Mrs.  Herbert  had  never  been  able  to  afford 
steady  help,  only  a  few  weeks  at  a  time,  when  in 
capacitated  entirely  for  labor;  and  for  that  reason, 
she  may  have  had  specimens  of  more  amusing  or 


186  FROM  DAWN   TO   DAYLIGHT. 

singular  character,  than  she  would  have  done,  if 
employing  constant  assistance.  Still  her  history  in 
that  regard,  was  but  a  fair  average  of  the  experi 
ence  of  the  community  generally. 

Her  first  girl  was  a  pretty,  rosy-cheeked  German, 
much  more  amiable  and  unselfish  than  most  of  her 
people ;  but  exceedingly  careless  and  unteachable. 
Always  attempting  the  very  things  she  was  not 
expected  or  desired  to  do,  and  leaving  undone 
those  which  belonged  to  her  appropriate  work,  and 
of  course  making  continually  the  most  unfortunate 
and  trying  mistakes. 

For  instance,  Mrs.  Herbert  was  one  day  prepar 
ing  to  bake.  Her  pastry  was  all  ready,  and  her 
bread  light  and  sweet,  in  just  the  right  condition 
for  the  oven,  when  she  was  interrupted  by  one  of 
those  friends,  whose  errand  of  life  seems  to  be  to 
assist  patience  to  perform  her  perfect  work,  by 
making  interminable  calls  on  the  busiest  days  of 
the  week,  and  at  the  most  unfortunate  moment. 

With  a  sigh,  she  washed  her  hands,  took  off  her 
neat  check  apron,  and  prepared  to  entertain  her 
guest,  telling  Maggie  to  finish  slicing  the  apples, 
and  then  iron  till  she  returned. 

The  lady's  call  was  unusually  protracted,  and 


KIND   INTENTION.  187 

poor  Mrs.  Herbert  had  before  her  eyes  visions  of  a 
late  dinner,  and  no  desert,  which,  while  she  was 
liberally  paid  by  her  boarders,  she  felt  it  necessary 
to  supply,  especially  as  the  customs  of  the  place 
made  a  generous  table  all-important. 

After  a  call  of  more  than  an  hour,  the  lady  rose, 
regretting  that  she  could  not  spare  time  for  a 
longer  tarry,  and  took  her  leave. 

The  anxious  housekeeper  hastened  to  the 
kitchen,  where  Maggie  met  her  with  the  broadest 
of  smiles. 

"  The  madam  needn't  hurry,  and  get  into  a 
'boggle'  about  dinner.  I've  made  the  pies,  and 
have  them  in  the  oven,  and  see,  the  bread  is  doing 
nicely." 

The  kind  intention  was  too  manifest  not  to  be 
met  with  thanks,  though  the  matron's  heart  mis 
gave  her ;  for,  from  some  specimens  of  her  hand 
maiden's  cooking,  she  could  not  hope  her  pies  or 
bread  would  be  of  the  best  quality.  On  examin 
ation,  however,  the  bread  seemed  right,  and  was 
"coming  up  like  a  puff,"  as  Maggie  said,  and 
the  pies  when  baked  were  tolerably  fair  to  look 
upon. 

So,  comforting  herself  with  the  thought,  that  at 


188  FROM     DAWN   TO    DAYLIGHT. 

any  rate  it  was  too  late  to  help  it  now,  she 
hastened  to  finish  other  arrangements  for  dinner ; 
and  by  the  time  the  family  were  seated  at  the 
table,  had  regained  a  very  comfortable  state  of 
mind. 

The  dinner  passed  pleasantly  through  the  first 
course ;  but  when  the  pies  were  set  before  her,  a 
feeling  of  doubt  again  disturbed  her,  for  she  imag 
ined  that  an  unusual  flavor  was  arising  from  them. 
But  "  too  late  to  help  it,"  again  came  to  her  aid, 
and  passing  a  piece  to  each,  she  raised  her  eyes  to 
judge  of  Maggie's  success. 

One  bit  had  been  tasted,  and  the  plate  put  aside. 
Stanly  sat  with  the  expression  of  the  most  ludi 
crous  indifference.  Townly  and  Burgess  had  made 
trial,  and  with  one  quick  glance  at  Mrs.  Herbert, 
their  attention  was  suddenly  attracted  to  some 
apparent  mystery  in  the  figure  of  the  table 
cloth. 

Mr.  Herbert  was  a  moment  behind  the  others  in 
the  trial;  but  Mary's  suspense  was  soon  ended. 
The  sniff  of  disgust,  and  the  outburst  of  laughter, 
no  longer  to  be  restrained,  which  answered  it  from 

O  ' 

the  other  victims,  was  enough ;  but  as  none  could, 
as  yet,  control  themselves  sufficiently  to  speak,  or 


CALL   THE   GIPSY.  189 

reply  to  her  earnest  questioning,  she  was  com 
pelled  to  taste  for  herself. 

"  Maggie,  Maggie,  what  have  you  put  into  these 
pies?" 

But  the  girl,  who  had  been  restlessly  passing  in 
and  out  of  the  room,  hoping  to  catch  a  compliment 
for  her  skill,  had  hastily  taken  herself  off  with  the 
first  explosion. 

"  Surely,  my  dear,"  said  Mr.  Herbert,  "  you  did 
not  let  that  greenest  of  all  green  things  make  your 
pies?" 

"No,  indeed;  but  she  set  herself  to  do  them, 
while  I  was  detained  by  a  long  call." 

"  And  now  do  tell  us,  Mrs.  Herbert,  what  has 
she  put  in,  or  rather  what  has  she  left  out  ?" 

"  That  is  beyond  my  skill,  for  such  a  combina 
tion  I  never  heard  of.  There's  sage  and  pepper 
most  certainly,  salt,  and  something  else  I  can't 
make  out,  and  am  hardly  willing  to  taste  again  for 
the  sake  of  the  knowledge." 

"The  pies  were  made  from  the  apples  of  Sodom, 
I  think,"  said  Burgess.  "  Do  call  the  gipsy,  and 
let's  know  all  about  it,  just  for  the  fun  of  the 
thing." 

There  was  no  need  of  calling,  for  at  that  moment 


190  FKOM   DAWN    TO   DAYLIGHT. 

she  entered,  bundle  in  hand,  and  in  a  towering 
rage. 

"  There's  no  gipsy  blood  in  my  veins,  I  can  tell 
you,  sir.  And  Mister  Herbert  called  me  green  / 
I'se  as  good  a  'plexion  as  anybody.  And  now 
give  me  my  money." 

Mrs.  Herbert  tried  to  soothe  her;  but  it  was  of 
no  avail.  There  was  no  forgiveness  for  the  insult 
of  being  called  gipsy,  or  for  disparaging  her 
complexion,  and  she  left  in  most  sublime  indig 
nation. 

"  "Well,  I  had  better  look  to  my  bread,  or  your 
supper  may  be  as  unfortunate  as  the  dessert." 

"  Oh,  that  was  first-rate — perfectly  unique — un 
surpassed  by  any  French  dish  in  Paris,  I  dare  say. 
I  wouldn't  have  missed  it  for  anything.  Do  let  us 
have  all  the  fun  you  can,  and  settle  the  bread  ques 
tion  before  we  go  out,  for  I  am  hoping  that  will 
be  of  as  new  a  pattern  as  the  dessert,"  said  Stanly, 
and  they  laughingly  followed  her  to  the  kitchen, 
having  received  a  whispered  permission  from  Mr. 
Herbert. 

"  See,  it  is  rising  beautifully,  as  the  child  said. 
Perhaps  she  has  succeeded  in  this.  Poor  thing! 
she  thought  to  do  me  a  favor." 


191 

"  ]No  doubt  of  that,"  replied  her  husband.  "But 
I  want  a  taste  of  the  bread.  Just  put  a  piece 
on  the  hot  stove,  and  bake  us  a  'boy's  bis 
cuit.'  " 

"  "Well,  on  one  condition — that  each  of  you  shall 
taste  a  piece,  no  matter  what  may  be  in  it." 

The  "  boy's  biscuit "  was  laid  on  the  stove,  and 
its  baking  watched  with  much  glee.  "When  done, 
Mrs.  Herbert  divided  it  into  four  parts,  and  handed 
a  portion  to  each  of  the  gentlemen. 

"But  you  have  reserved  none  for  yourself.  Why 
so  generous,  my  dear  ?" 

"  I  didn't  promise  to  try  it,  but  you  did,  and  1 
shall  hold  you  to  it." 

"With  some  hesitation,  each  took  a  piece,  and 
far  more  quickly  ejected  it,  with  the  most  uncouth 
grimaces. 

"  We  shall  never,  never  forget  Lot's  wife,"  said 
Mr.  Herbert. 

"  Oh,  dear !  all  my  bread  wasted.  Maggie  has 
evidently  heard  of  'salt  risings,'  much  used  out 
here  for  yeast,  and  has  given  it  a  very  effectual  trial." 

"Well,  we've  had  a  right  merry  time — better 
than  any  dessert  you  could  have  provided,  Mrs. 
Herbert." 


192  FKOM  DAWN  TO  DAYLIGHT. 

"  Many  thanks  for  taking  it  so  philosophically, 
young  gentlemen." 

Some  weeks  passed,  in  which  Mrs.  H.  labored 
unassisted,  but  was  now  nearly  exhausted.  Susie 
was  a  quiet,  happy  little  body,  but  a  child  of  three 
years  must  require  care,  and  beside  the  time  drew 
nigh  when  her  mother  would  be  laid  aside  from 
active  labor,  and  she  was  very  anxious  to  secure 
some  one  to  relieve  her  husband  from  so  much 
toil,  and  also  to  make  his  home  rather  more  com 
fortable  than  it  had  been  during  some  of  her  illnesses. 

At  the  table  one  day,  Mr.  Townly  said,  "  Our 
unfortunate  merry-making,  some  weeks  since,  de 
prived  you  of  a  girl,  and  'tis  but  right  that  we  try 
to  secure  another.  My  sister  told  me  this  morning 
that  she  knew  of  a  colored  girl  who  she  thought,  in 
your  hands,  might  become  quite  useful.  Shall  I 
send  her,  and  let  you  talk  with  her  ?" 

"  I'll  answer  the  question,"  said  Mr.  Herbert ; 
"  send  her,  by  all  means.  I  know  what  you  would 
say,  my  dear,  but  discipline  must  be  maintained ; 
remember,  I  have  decided  that  you  must  rest  and 
take  life  a  little  easier ;  so  Townly,  send  on  the 
'maid  of  all  work,'  (which  probably  may  mean 
mistress  of  the  whole),  as  soon  as  you  please." 


SALLY.  193 

In  due  time,  Sally  came ;  a  stout,  good-looking 
yellow-girl. 

"  Where  have  you  been  living  ?" 

"  At  JVlassa  Baker." 

"  Why  did  you  leave  2" 

"  L^vs  me.  Misses  and  the  young  folks  think 
colored  people  ain't  good  enough  to  wipe  feet  on, 
and  their  pigs  live  better  than  they  let  me.  Might 
as  well  be  a  slave  again." 

"  Then  you  have  been  a  slave  ?  Are  you  free 
now  ?"  said  Mrs.  Herbert. 

"  Want  to  send  me  back,  eh !"  said  the  poor  girl, 
with  a  half-cunning,  half-frightened  look.  "  Baker 
said  Massa  Herbert  ought  to  be  shot,  'cause  he  is 
sorry  for  the  slave,  and  I  didn't  think,  if  I  came 

here,  you'd  be  for  i  letting  on '  'bout  me. 

% 

"  ]STor  will  we,  Sally.  'Tis  true,  we  are  both 
very  sorry  that  any  one  should  be  held  in 
slavery,  and  I  ask  the  question  from  kindness, 
not  from  curiosity,  or  an  intention  to  injure 
you." 

"  Then  I'se  tell  you,"  said  she,  coming  close  up  to 
Mrs.  Herbert,  speaking  through  her  set  teeth,  <  Ise 
free  till  they  catch  me — and  I'll  die  before  they  do 
that." 

9 


194  FEOM   DAWN   TO   DAYLIGHT. 

"  Well,  Sally,  if  I  hire  you,  what  can  you  do 
Can  you  wash  and  iron  ?" 
"  Yes,  'm." 

9 

"  And  keep  the  house  neat  and  clean  ?" 

"  Yes,  'm." 

"  And  do  you  know  anything  about  cooking  ?" 

"  Laws  me !  sure  I  do ;  right  handy  at  it,  can 
cook  anything,  and  milk  cows,  and  split  wood. 
Dear  me !  I  can  do  anything." 

"  Most  too  ready  at  promising,"  said  Mrs.  Her 
bert  to  herself,  "  but  I  may  as  well  try.  As  I  don't 
expect  much,  there's  no  danger  of  disappointment." 

And  Sally  was  engaged  to  come  the  next  day. 
At  the  appointed  time  she  made  her  appearance. 
Mrs.  Herbert  spent  the  chief  part  of  the  forenoon,  for 
several  days,  with  her  in  the  kitchen.  She  seemed 
rather  inefficient,  and  not  over  nice ;  but  as  all  that 
had  been  expected,  on  the  whole,  her  employers 
began  to  natter  themselves  that  she  would,  in  the 
end,  prove  quite  as  reliable  as  any  assistance  they 
might  hope  to  obtain. 

The  first  evening  she  had  been  directed  to  pre 
pare  some  chickens  for  the  next  day's  dinner. 
"When  asked  if  she  understood  how  to  do  the  work 
correctly,  she  seemed  greatly  amused.  "  Laws 


POOR  COFFEE.  195 

sake  !  Missis  think  this  chile  don't  know  nothing ; 
I  can  do  poultry  nicer  nor  anything." 

Mrs.  Herbert  felt  confident  that  the  girl  was  not 
boasting  foolishly,  in  this  item  of  her  work,  for  in 
a  country  where  game  and  poultry  are  so  abundant 
as  to  be  common  food  for  all,  surely  every  one  must 
know  all  that  was  needful  of  the  matter ;  and,  quite 
contented,  she  sat  down  to  rest  herself  with  her 
needle. 

The  next  day  proved  that  Sally  could  "dress 
chickens  any  how,"  if  she  knew  nothing  else. 

For  several  days,  things  moved  on  with  some 
considerable  degree  of  comfort.  Sally's  want  of 
neatness,  which  rather  increased  than  diminished, 
being  the  most  unpromising  thing,  thus  far.  But 
after  a  while  there  began  to  be  complaints  on  the 
part  of  Mr.  Herbert,  corroborated  by  the  other 
gentlemen,  that  something  was  wrong  with  the 
coffee. 

c{  Does  our  new  damsel  meddle  with  it  ?  for  it 
tastes  like  boiled  dish  towels  !" 

"  "Why,  George !  how  can  you  talk  so.  Nobody 
touches  the  coffee  but  myself." 

"  Well,  then,  my  dear,  you  are  losing  your  skill, 
most  certainly,  for  it  has  been  growing  worse  and 


196  FROM  DAWN  TO   DAYLIGHT. 

wor§e,  and  now  it  is  past  endurance.  Does  Sally 
wash  the  coffee-pot  ?" 

"  Yes ;  but  if  it  were  not  clean,  I  should  know  it 
when  I  prepare  the  coffee." 

"Well,  then,  the  tea-kettle,  for  there's  dirt 
somewhere,  I'll  be  bound,  as  Father  Tompkins 
says." 

As  soon  as  breakfast  was  over,  Mrs.  Herbert 
hastened  to  the  kitchen  to  make  a  more  careful 
examination.  The  coffee-pot  was  all  right,  but  the 
tea-kettle!  Oh,  misery!  The  sediment  at  the 
bottom  was  overpowering ;  and  calling  Sally,  she 
inquired  how  feathers  and  other  garbage  came  in 
the  tea-kettle ! 

"  Laws  sake,  missis !  and  I  forgot  to  rinse  it 
after  dressing  them  chickens." 

"But  what  had  you  to  do  with  the  tea-kettle, 
when  about  such  work  ?" 

"  Tears  like  it  heats  a  sight  quicker  than  'tother 
kettle." 

Poor  IVIrs.  Herbert  thought  she  had  closely  kept 
her  eye  on  everything  that  passed  through  Sally's 
hands,  but  after  such  a  specimen,  she  undertook  to 
go  over  the  whole  kitchen  arrangements,  and  the 
result  showed  such  unutterable  filth iness,  and  in 


GOD  GAVE  IT.  197 

places  so  unheard  of  before,  that  Sally  was  at  once 
dismissed. 

The  coffee,  next  morning,  was  all  that  could  be 
desired,  and  when  asked  what  miracle  had  "  healed 
the  bitter  waters,"  and  why  she  was  again  the  sole 
occupant  of  the  kitchen,  Mrs.  Herbert  replied  with 
a  smile : 

"  'Where  ignorance  is  bliss,  'tis  folly  to  be  wise,' 

and  trust  me,  the  less  you  know  of  the  matter  the 
better  it  will  be  for  your  digestion." 

After  two  or  three  weeks  had  dragged  wearily 
along,  Mr.  Herbert  brought  in  with  him,  one  after 
noon,  a  smart-looking  girl,  as  black  as  ebony,  of 
whom  a  friend  had  told  him,  giving  her  an  excellent 
character  for  neatness,  capacity  and  good  morals. 

The  next  morning,  Mrs.  Herbert  was  too  ill  to 
do  more  than  sit  in  her  chair,  by  the  kitchen  door, 
and  direct.  Rose's  work  was  neatly  done;  no 
fault  could  be  found  with  dinner,  and  all  things 
worked  charmingly. 

A  week  from  the  time  Rose  came,  little  Susie 
was  taken,  one  morning,  from  her  crib,  and  brought 
to  mamma's  bedside,  and  there  lay  a  tiny  little 
baby  brother. 


198  FEOM  DAWN   TO   DAYLIGHT. 

"  Oh,  mamma !  where  did  you  find  it  ?" 

"  God  gave  it,  my  dear." 

The  child's  face  settled  into  a  deeply  thoughtful 
expression,  and  she  stood  for  a  moment  in  silence. 
Then  her  countenance  flushed,  and  her  blue  eyes 
shone  brightly,  as  though  she  had  solved  a  question 
of  great  moment. 

"  Oh,  I  see !  God  put  a  rope  round  little  brother, 
and  let  him  down  through  the  little  stars.  Now 
Susie  knows  what  the  stars  are,  little  holes  right 
up  into  God's  house ;  but " — (and  a  look  of 
intense  fear  crossed  her  face) — "oh,  mamma,  if 
the  rope  had  broken  this  morning,  and  when 
papa  went  out  he  had  found  the  baby  all  killed 
to  pieces !  Oh,  dear !  oh,  dear !  how  we  should 
have  cried,  all  of  us." 

"  Borrowing  trouble  already,  puss !  Bather 
early  to  follow  the  ways  of  the  world,"  said 
Mr.  Herbert,  laughing ;  and  went  out  to  see  how 
Rose  was  succeeding  with  breakfast.  "Doing 
first  rate"  was  the  report ;  and  everything  seemed 
so  encouraging,  both  as  regarded  the  sick  one 
and  the  kitchen,  that  Mr.  Herbert  left  soon 
after  morning  prayers,  saying  he  should  not  be 
home  till  dinner-time. 


WHAT   WILL   YOU    DO    NOW?  199 

Just  before  dinner,  however,  Rose  looked  in  and 
said,  "  I'm  going,  missis." 

«  —"Why,  Rose  1" 

"  Oli,  Missis  Allen  will  give  me  a  quarter  more 
nor  you  do." 

"  Well,  I'll  give  you  the  extra  quarter,  Rose,  for 
you  certainly  will  not  leave  me  when  unable  to 
help  myself." 

Rose  departed  to  her  wrork,  and  Mrs.  Herbert 
felt  quite  relieved. 

But  soon  after  tea,  a  neighbor's  daughter  ran  in, 
and  said  that  Rose  had  just  gone,  and  requested 
her  to  tell  Mrs.  Herbert  that  Mrs.  Allen  had 
offered  her  another  quarter  extra,  and  she  left 
without  seeing  the  missis,  "  'cause  she  Tcnowed 
Massa  Herbert  was  not  able  to  give  her  more  than 
she  was  already  receiving." 

" Poor  George !  what  will  you  do  now?"  said  Mary. 

"Far  better  than  the  woman  who  could  so 
tamper  with  a  servant's  avarice  in  times  of  illness ;" 
and  with  his  usual  hopeful  and  cheerful  way,  he 
took  upon  himself  the  charge  of  the  next  morning's 
breakfast,  making  merry  over  every  mistake,  and 
supplying  all  deficiencies  in  the  cooking,  by  fur 
nishing  food  for  healthful  laughter. 


200  FROM   DAWN   TO   DAYLIGHT. 

"  Now,  my  dear,  the  housework  is  all  done  up, 
before  Mother  Tompkins  caught  me  at  it ;  but  as 
for  dressing  that  small  edition  of  humanity,  I  have 
not  courage  to  make  the  attempt,  and  shall  step 
over  to  our  good  friends  and  get  some  of  the 
'women  kind,'  to  attend  to  that  business,  and 
while  they  are  here,  I'll  go  hunting." 

"  Hunting,  George !"  exclaimed  his  wife. 

"  Yes,  hunting  help" 

But  the  hunt  not  being  successful,  the  boarders 
were  dismissed.  Mr.  Herbert  attending  to  the 
cooking  for  himself  and  Susie,  while  friends  took 
turns  in  dressing  the  baby  and  caring  for  the 
mother. 

When  all  was  in  order,  little  Susie  was  commis 
sioned  to  watch  and  wait  on  mamma,  while  her 
father  left  to  attend  for  a  short  time  to  parish 
matters. 

And  the  prim  little  lady  would  climb  into  the 
most  dignified  chair  she  could  find,  and  sit 
demurely  any  length  of  time,  brushing  flies  off 
from  mother  and  brother,  or,  in  some  other  way, 
striving  to  make  herself  useful. 

With  such  a  gentle  nurse,  and  her  husband's 
loving  care,  Mrs.  Herbert  recovered  rapidly,  and 


BABY  OTESE.  201 

often  insisted  that  she  had  never  been  so  well  cared 
for  in  any  illness,  or  so  happy,  as  during  those  few 
weeks.  And  now,  more  than  ever,  she  was  thank 
ful  for  a  small  house,  as  she  could  get  out  about 
her  family  duties  so  much  easier,  and  relieve  her 
husband  from  care  more  effectually. 

And  quite  too  soon  for  her  safety,  Mrs.  Herbert 
was  again  at  work,  and  little  Miss  Susie  raised  to 
the  dignity  of  baby-nurse,  an  office  which  she  filled 
with  most  edifying  gravity. 

For  the  remainder  of  the  summer,  they  were 
without  boarders,  although  their  pecuniary  affairs 
were  becoming  more  and  more  unsatisfactory ;  but 
the  garden,  under  Mr.  Herbert's  energetic  manage 
ment,  was  a  great  assistance,  and  his  wife  econo 
mized  even  more  rigorously  than  ever. 


CHAPTEE    XIII. 

THE  DONATION  PAETT. 

IT  is  not  my  intention  to  follow  our  friends  very 
minutely,  only  glancing  here  and  there  at  a  few  of 
the. most  prominent  of  their  joys  and  sorrows, 
blessings  and  trials.  Save  that  she  feared  her 
diminished  health  might  prove  a  hindrance  to  her 
husband's  usefulness,  Mrs.  Herbert  would  be  very 
unwilling  to  admit  that  her  lot  had  fallen  on  the 
"  shady  side  "  of  life.  She  felt  deeply  her  entire 
separation  from  her  own  family  friends,  and  also 
that  her  removal  to  Norton  had  cut  her  off  from 
the  society  of  her  husband's  brother  Frank  and  his 
wife.  Since  leaving  Glenville,  they  had  not  met, 
and  both  herself  and  husband  mourned  the  loss  of 
their  kind  cooperation  and  ready  sympathy,  more 
than  any  deprivation  that  they  had  as  yet  been 
called  to  meet.  But  their  affection  lost  none  of  its 
brightness  by  absence,  and  many  a  substantial  love 


SISTER  AGNES.  203 

token  came  from  this  dear  sister  at  just  the  time  of 
utmost  need,  which,  had  it  occurred  in  these  more 
spiritually-developed  later  days,  would  certainly 
have  been  attributed  to  the  interposition  of  some 
"  spirit  messenger." 

"When  the  baby  was  about  three  months  old,  a 
very  dear  sister  of  Mr.  Herbert's  spent  some 
weeks  with  them,  bringing  a  little  one  of  the  same 
age  with  Master  Frank.  This  visit  was  another  *of 
those  bright  spots,  which  Mrs.  Herbert  always 
loved  to  recall. 

Mrs.  Ward,  or  Sister  Agnes,  was  a  woman  of 
very  uncommon  intellectual  attainments,  and  our 
Mary  thought  at  first  that  she  should  never  feel  at 
ease  with  her.  Her  warm,  loving  heart,  however, 
soon  dispelled  all  fears,  and  the  sisters  spent  many 
happy  hours  together,  and  none  more  so  than  those 
employed  each  morning  in  bathing,  dressing  and 
administering  to  the  wants  of  their  little  pets,  and 
talking  over  their  hopes  and  fears  for  the  future  of 
the  beloved  ones  committed  to  their  care. 

Little  Susie  was  of  course  a  great  favorite  with 
her  aunty ;  and  her  quaint,  old-fashioned  remarks 
an  unfailing  source  of  amusement. 

The  young  lady,  having  three  months'  experience 


204:  FKOM  DAWN   TO   DAYLIGHT. 

in  "tending  the  baby,"  felt  quite  competent  to 
advise  and  caution  in  the  management  of  her 
young  cousin,  and  the  comical  air  and  mock 
solemnity  with  which  Mrs.  "Ward  would  receive 
her  counsels,  and  draw  her  out,  were  irresistibly 
laughable. 

"  Now,  aunty,  it  will  never  do  to  let  little  cou 
sin's  head  hang  over  your  lap  so." 

•""Why  not,  pussy?" 

"Please  don't  call  Susie  pussy.  Nobody  but 
papa  must  say  that." 

"What!  not  mamma?" 

"  Oh,  no.     I'm  mamma's  little  maid." 

"Well,  and  you  are  Aunt  Susie's  little  quiet 
mouse,  are  you  not?" 

"  Mice  do  mischief,  and  trouble  mamma." 

"  And  that  my  little  utilitarian  would  not  like  to 
do.  But,  tell  me,  why  may  I  not  let  Franky's 
head  fall  over  my  lap  ?  Please  explain." 

"  'Cause  Grandma  Topsins  says  it  will  make 
babies  have  crickets" 

"Rickets,  darling,  I  presume.  But  what  does 
that  mean  ?" 

"  I  guess  it  means  bad  tempered  ;  'cause  she  said 
if  brother  had  them  he  would  cry  half  the  time." 


A  PLAN  PEOPOSED.  205 

About  a  week  before  Mrs.  "Ward's  visit  expired, 
Mrs.  Jackson  rode  over  to  lay  before  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
Herbert  a  plan,  which,  she  said,  Mrs.  Tompkins 
and  some  other  friends  had  been  arranging,  and 
only  waiting  for  the  sanction  of  their  pastor  and 
wife,  to  carry  into  execution. 

Mrs.  Jackson  had  been  undeviating  in.  her  kind 
ness,  from  the  hour  they  had  first  met,  but  her 
rapidly  failing  health,  and  the  almost  constant 
sickness  of  some  one  of  her  children,  prevented 
her  from  seeing  our  friends  as  often  as  she  wished. 
Still  no  festival  day  passed  without  seeing  the  old 
family  carriage,  with  black  Ben,  ready  to  convey 
Mr.  Herbert's  people  out  to  "  "Woodlands,"  where 
everybody  expected  a  happy  time,  and  were  never 
disappointed. 

The  "plan"  was  an  earnest  desire  on  the  part  of 
many  friends  to  give  a  "  donation  party r."  "  And," 
said  Mrs.  Jackson,  "I  think  it  can  be  managed 
so  as  to  combine  much  pleasure,  with  so  much 
of  profit  as  to  enable  you  to  pass  this  winter 
more  comfortably  than  the  last.  We  wish  it 
very  particularly  understood,  however,  that  this 
party,  and  its  proceeds,  has  nothing  to  do  with 
your  salary.  On  that  you  will  have  just  as 


206  FROM   DAWN   TO    DAYLIGHT. 

strong  a  claim  as  though  no  party  had  been 
given. 

"  I  am  ashamed  that  jour  promised  support  has 
been  so  niggardly  paid ;  there  is  no  reason  why  it 
should  be  so.  And  we  desire  to  give  this  party, 
as  a  strong  hint  from  the  ladies,  to  the  gentlemen, 
of  their  opinion  of  the  business  habits  of  the 
church,  as  well  as  a  proof  of  our  love  for,  and 
interest  in,  you  and  your  family." 

She  then  proceeded  to  inform  them  that  Mrs. 
Campbell,  Susie's  foster-mother,  with  Mrs.  Tomp- 
kins  and  her  eldest  daughters,  would  take  charge 
of  everything,  and  were  desirous  that  Mr.  Herbert, 
and  his  wife  and  sister,  should  spend  the  appointed 
day  at  "Woodlands,"  and  give  their  house  in 
charge  to  these  ladies,  promising  that  everything 
should  be  well  cared  for,  and  after  the  party,  re 
placed  in  "  apple-pie  order,"  with  no  fatigue  for 
Mrs.  Herbert. 

"There,"  said  Mrs.  "Ward,  laughing,  "just  look 
at  Mary,  brother  George.  She  is  perfectly  bewil 
dered;  and,  I'll  venture  to  say,  Vnows  nothing 
about  a  '  donation  party.'1 ': 

"I  don't  understand  why  the  ladies  wish  us 
off  all  day  (though,  you  know,  Mrs.  Jackson,  it 


ALL    A   MUDDLE.  207 

will  be  a  treat  to  rest  at  your  pleasant  home),  nor 
what  they  mean  by  replacing  everything." 

"  "Why,  your  house  is  very  small,  and  we  shall 
want  your  furniture  moved  out  of  one  room  for  the 
tea-table,  and  one  of  the  little  rooms  for  the  *  offer 
ing,'  and  the  rest  of  the  house  for  the  guests. 

"I  see  the  housekeeper  all  over  your  face,  my 
dear,  and  in  your  heart  you  are  beholding  visions 
of  endless  confusion." 

"  Oh,  no  ;  you  only  see  that  'tis  all  a  £  muddle  ' 
to  me.  I  haven't  the  least  idea  how  it  will  be ; 
but  am  grateful  for  the  kindness  shown,  and  cer 
tainly  have  no  fears,  but  our  two  dear  friends, 
Mrs.  Campbell  and  Mrs.  Tompldns,  will  leave 
everything  in  as  good,  or  better  condition  than 
they  found  them.  But,  Mrs.  Jackson,  how  about 
my  husband's  books,  table,  etc.  ?  They  take  up 
full  half  the  room,  and  I  can't  see  how  many 
people  can  find  place  to  stand,  in  the  room  you 
have  reserved  for  company." 

"  Oh,  they  must  all  be  set  out  on  the  veranda." 

" Now  look  at  George's  face,  good  friends!  I 
appeal  to  you,  if  it  is  not  more  expressive  than 
mine  was  a  few  moments  ago.  I  see  the  anxious 
student  and  book-worshipper,  in  every  lineament." 


208  FEOM  DAWN  TO  DAYLIGHT. 

The  laugh  was  fully  turned  upon  Mr.  Herbert, 
who  candidly  confessed  that  he  should  never 
expect  to  find  book  or  paper  again  ;  but  intended 
to  resign  himself,  with  the  patience  of  a  martyr,  to 
the  infliction. 

The  next  week,  on  Thursday,  was  appointed  for 
the  visit,  and  Mrs.  Jackson  said  Ben  would  be 
round  by  eight  o'clock  of  that  morning  with  the 
carriage. 

After  Mrs.  Jackson  left,  the  subject  was  fully 
discussed,  and  all  agreed  that,  pecuniarily,  it  would 
probably  not  amount  to  much. 

"  But,"  said  Mrs.  Herbert,  "  we  shall  have  a 
good  opportunity  to  see  our  people,  and  that  never 
does  harm." 

"  And  I  shall  become  better  acquainted  with 
them  than  by  a  year's  common  intercourse,  and 
feel  a  deeper  interest ;  so  if  in  the  simple  matter  of 
dollars  and  cents  (though  I  would,  by  no  means  be 
understood  to  speak  disparagingly  of  them),  we 
are  no  worse  off,  I'm  going  to  be  content." 

"I  am  rejoiced,"  said  Mrs.  "Ward,  "that  the 
'  party '  is  to  come  off  before  I  leave ;  I  wouldn't 
miss  it  for  considerable.  I  have  attended  several, 
and  never  yet  saw  one  that  did  not  prove  a  failure. 


BEAUTIFUL   OCTOBEK.  209 

But  there  is  an  efficiency  and  sincerity  about  two 
or  three  of  those  who  are  to  have  the  management 
of  this  affair,  that  will  insure  success,  if  anything 
will.  So  1  shall  take  great  interest  in  watching 
the  result," 

"  "Well,  I  am  very  sanguine,  at  least,  of  having  a 
good  time — books,  papers,  and  confusion  to  the 
contrary  notwithstanding,"  said  her  brother. 

Thursday  came  at  length;  a  clear,  cheerful, 
October  day,  and  surely  there  is  no  month  in  all 
the  year  that  can  bring  such  glorious  days;  in 
which  simply  living  is  such  a  luxury ;  no  month 
in  which  it  would  be  so  hard  to  welcome  death, 
and  through  faith  look  forward  to,  and  believe  in 
something  even  more  desirable,  in  the  world  be 
yond,  as  this  same  bright,  beautiful  October. 

And  it  was  on  one  of  her  most  lovely  and  invi 
gorating  mornings,  that  Ben  drove  up  before  the 
parsonage,  and  the  merry,  blue-eyed  JVIeggie  an 
nounced  that  all  was  ready  for  their  reception  at 
"  Woodlands,"  and  that  Agnes  and  Nellie,  Jessie 
and  Hattie,  with  a  score  of  young  ladies,  were  only 
waiting  their  departure  to  step  in  and  help  the 
matrons  arrange  for  the  evening's  entertainment ; 
while  herself  and  Sister  Belle  were  promised  the 


210  FEOM  DAWN   TO   DAYLIGHT. 

pleasure  of  nursing  the  babies,  and  playing  with 
Susie.  She  was,  furthermore,  instructed  to  inform 
the  friends,  that  when  all  was  ready,  a  carriage 
would  be  sent  to  "Woodlands  for  them ;  but  they  were 
not  to  approach  within  hearing  distance  till  then. 

A  most  happy  company  now  entered  that  com 
modious  old  family  carriage ;  care  and  forethought 
were  for  one  day  dismissed,  as  they  gave  them 
selves  up  to  the  luxury  of  rest,  and  the  full  enjoy 
ment  of  their  ride,  and  anticipations  of  the  novel 
pleasures  of  the  coming  evening. 

It  was  the  first  time  Mrs.  Ward  had  been  at 
"Woodlands,"  and  delighted  wTith  the  place,  and 
quite  in  love  with  her  hostess,  she  felt,  with  her 
brother  and  his  wife,  that  no  day  had  ever  passed 
so  quickly  or  pleasantly  away. 

At  five  o'clock  the  promised  carriage  arrived  for 
the  pastor's  family,  while  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Jackson  with 
their  children  were  to  follow  in  their  own  convey 
ance. 

On  the  way,  some  surprise  was  expressed  that 
they  were  sent  for  at  so  early  an  hour,  Mrs.  Ward 
remarking,  that  it  was  not  customary  for  such 
parties  to  begin  till  after  dark.  Instead,  however, 
of  driving  up  to  their  own  house,  the  carriage 


RESCUE   OR  NO  RESCUE.  21.1 

stopped  with  them  at  Mr.  Tompkins',  where  they 
found  Agnes  waiting  at  the  gate. 

"  We  want  you  in  here  for  about  an  hour." 

"  Well,  Miss  Agnes,  that's  more  than  we  bar 
gained  for,"  said  Mr.  Herbert,  "  and  I  am  not  at 
all  sure  I  shall  submit  to  any  such  encroachments 
on  our  freedom." 

"  But  here  comes  father,  and  I  think  you  had 
better  yield,  l  rescue  or  no  rescue,'  for  you  know 
he  has  a  trick  of  picking  people  up  and  walking 
off  with  them." 

"  Ah,  sis !  but  it  won't  do  to  take  such  liberties 
with  the  Dominie.  I  haven't  forgot,  though,  how  to 
manage  a  flock  of  sheep,"  said  he,  jumping  little 
Susie  through  the  carriage  window  with  one  hand, 
and  taking  the  baby  from  Mrs.  Herbert  in  the 
other.  "  There,  now  I've  got  the  lambs,  the  old 
ones  will  be  sure  to  follow." 

When  they  entered  the  house,  Mrs.  Herbert  and 
little  Susie  were  led  up-stairs  by  Mrs.  Tompkins, 
and  her  husband  taken  off  by  the  old  gentleman, 
Mrs.  Ward  being  left  in  the  parlor  to  await  further 
developments. 

"  You  see,  we  wanted  our  minister  and  his  folks 
to  look  their  best  to-night,  and  reckoned  you  were 


212 


FEOM   DAWN   TO   DAYLIGHT. 


somewhat  in  need  of  new  clothes.  Here  they  are ; 
just  you  put  them  on  quick.  Oh,  I  can't  stop  to 
listen  now !  Busy  times,  you  know !"  and  without 
waiting  to  see  or  hear  surprise  or  thanks,  he  hastily 
left  Mr.  Herbert  to  array  himself  in  an  entire  new 
suit  from  head  to  foot. 

His  wife  found  a  similar  surprise  awaiting  her  in 
the  chamber  to  which  she  was  led.  A  black  silk 
dress  and  wrought  collar,  a  simple  but  tasteful 
head-dress,  embroidered  handkerchief  and  white 
kid  gloves,  even  to  the  black  silk  hose  and  neatly- 
fitting  kid  slippers,  were  all  in  readiness,  and  on 
the  table  a  modest  bonnet  and  substantial  shawl. 

"They  won't  bite  you,"  said  Mrs.  Tompkins, 
laughing  heartily  at  Mrs.  Herbert's  bewildered 
look,  and  giving  her  a  real  motherly  kiss. 

"  Come,  we  must  see  how  they  look.  You'll  be 
wanted  in  half  an  hour  over  to  OUT  neighbor's  across 
the  way" 

"How  did  you  find  out  just  what  we  most 
needed  ?  and  how  could  you  succeed  so  finely  in 
fitting  us?" 

"  Why,  my  girls  and  I  have  eyes  for  something 
beside  our  own  dress,  and  could  see  that  your 
garments  were  getting  rather  rusty.  We  know 


PLEASANTLY   STJKPEISED.  213 

you  don't  get  paid  promptly  enough  to  buy  aL.  that 
you  really  need.  As  for  the  fit,  liattie  stole  (I  told 
her  you'd  excuse  the  liberty,  I  was  sure)  one  of 
your  dresses  and  a  pair  of  slippers  the  other  day3 
for  patterns.  I  am  only  afraid  Miss  Brady  hasn't 
done  the  work  as  neatly  as  you  do  yourself.  Do 
you  know  we've  quite  an  idea  of  setting  up  a  dress 
maker's  shop,  and  appointing  you  to  work  for  tho 
church  ?" 

"  Just  to  keep  you  from  dying  with  idleness," 
said  Agnes,  coming  from  the  little  bedroom  adjoin 
ing,  where  she  had  been  busy  with  Susie. 

"But  before  you  engage  the  shop,  Mrs.  Her 
bert,  please  look  at  this  young  lady,  and  say  if 
Jessie  and  Nellie  Campbell,  sister  Essie  and  myself, 
may  not  come  in  as  '  'prentices,5  when  mother's 
plan  takes  effect  ?" 

"  Headworkmen  rather,  if  this  is  a  specimen 
of  your  handiwork.  Why,  Susie,  darling,  what 
have  they  done  to  you  ?" 

"  See,  mamma !  Aunt  Aggie  made  Susie  pretty 
dress  and  apron,  and  new  shiny  shoes,  and  what  a 
nice  new  mamma  Grandma  Tompkins  has  made  you. 
But  mamma  mustn't  be  proud ;  Susie  ain't  a  lit" 
said  the  little  gipsy,  glancing  demurely  at  the 


214  FEOM  DAWN  TO  DAYLIGHT. 

reflection  of  herself  in  the  mirror,  and  it  may  be, 
that  there  was  less  of  vanity  in  the  bright  smile  she 
met  there,  than  of  the  innate  love  of  beauty,  as  she 
saw  a  fair,  sweet  face,  rich  glossy  curls,  and  a  trim 
little  figure,  most  becomingly  clad  in  blue  frock 
and  white  apron. 

"Why,  this  is  fairy-land,  my  dear;  I  hardly 
know  myself  or  you,  and  wonder  if  father  will." 

"  Perhaps  you  won't  know  him,"  said  Mrs.  Tomp- 
kins ;  "  but  as  you  are  now  ready,  we  will  go  and 
see."  So  saying,  Mrs.  Tompkins  led  the  way  to  the 
parlor. 

There  the  husband  and  wife  were  introduced  to  • 
each  other,  with  great  form,  and  caused  much 
merriment,  and  at  once  organized  themselves  into 
a  u  mutual  admiration  society,"  and  were  both  so 
full  of  self,  as  not  to  spare  a  glance  at  the  "  babies," 
as  Mrs.  Ward  said,  showing  them  little  Meggie,  in 
a  recessed  window,  holding  both  the  little  ones, 
dressed  precisely  alike. 

"Only  think  of  my  boy's  coming  in  for  a  share 
of  the  donation  party." 

Their  kind  friends  excused  themselves  for  a 
moment,  so  as  to  be  ready  to  escort  them  to  the 
parsonage,  as  soon  as  the  signal  should  be  given. 


WHO  WOULD  HAYE  THOUGHT?        215 

"When  left  alone,  Mr.  Herbert  said,  "Who 
would  have  thought,  less  than  a  year  ago,  when  we 
received  those  lectures  on  economy,  that  one  day 
we  should  have  cause  to  rank  this  family  among 
our  most  reliable  friends,  and  be  indebted  to  them 
for  some  of  our  most  substantial  comforts  ?" 

"  I  should  think  their  consciences  might,  by  this 
time,  be  appeased,  for  surely  they  have  more  than 
compensated  for  the  two  hundred  dollars,  about 
which  they  condemn  themselves  so  severely." 

"  That's  not  the  only  reason  why  they  love  and 
help  you,  dear  sister.  The  days  you  devoted  your 
self  to  them,  when  their  daughter  died,  and  your 
dreadful  illness  in  consequence,  will  never  be  for 
gotten." 

"  Oh,  I  should  probably  have  been  sick  any 
way.  I  was  well-nigh  exhausted  before  Annie's 
illness." 

"  Ah,  but  the  old  gentleman  has  been  telling  me 
all  about  it,  while  you  two  were  beautifying.  I 
assure  you,  he  has  a  large,  tender  heart,  under  that 
rough  exterior.  He  wept  like  a  child  when  he 
told  me  how  he  used  to  watch  outside  your  door, 
when  you  were  too  ill  to  see  him,  and  said  he,  '  If 
she  had  died,  my  woman  and  I  would  never  have 


216  FROM   DAWN  TO   DAYLIGHT. 

had  another  happy  hour.  To  think  how  she  wore 
herself  out  for  us,  after  all  we  had  said.  Ah !  it 
was  heaping  coals  of  fire  upon  our  heads,  with  a 
vengeance !  It  almost  burns  me  up  sometimes,  I 
tell  you,  Mrs.  "Ward.' 

"  '"Well,'  said  I,  £  I  should  think  you  were  in  a 
fair  way  to  extinguish  the  "  coals,"  if  you  are 
always  in  the  practice  of  throwing  on  such 
"  dampers  "  as  you  have  been  doing  since  I  came 
in  town.  I  know  they  look  upon  you  as  their  best 
and  dearest  friends.' 

"< "Well,  now!  Do  tell!  Is  that  so?  Then  I'm 
happier  than  I  ever  expected  to  be,  since  my 
Annie  died.' " 

They  were  now  wanted  at  the  scene  of  the  even 
ing's  festivities.  When  they  entered  their  own 
door,  fresh  surprises  awaited  them.  All  that  was 
familiar  had  vanished  ;  bed,  table,  books,  etc.  A 
pretty  carpet  covered  the  floor  (a  luxury  they  had 
never  possessed),  a  nice,  chintz-covered,  comfort 
able  lounge,  fitting  in  under  one  of  the  front  win 
dows,  a  large,  cane-seated  rocker,  half  a  dozen 
chairs  to  match,  a  little  chair  for  Susie,  and  a  hand 
some  clock  on  the  mantel. 

"  There,  this  is  all  you  can  be  allowed  to  see  just 


ELDER   FAIRCHILD.  217 

at  present,"  said  Mrs.  Campbell ;  "  the  guests  will 
soon  arrive,  and  I  have  a  cover  which  I  must  put 
over  this  carpet,  before  they  come ;  it  will  take  but 
a  minute,  and  you  must  be  all  ready  to  play 
hostess.  We  now  resign  that  place  to  you,  and  will 
only  retain  the  charge  of  the  supper,  and  placing 
such  gifts  as  are  not  handed  immediately  to  you, 
in  the  little  room  destined  for  them." 

A  long,  four-seated  wagon  was  the  first  to  halt 
before  the  little  gate,  and  land  its  troop  of  old  and 
young. 

"  Good  Elder  Fairchild,  and  his  dame,  with  their 
flock,"  said  Mrs.  Campbell,  and  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Her 
bert  came  forward  to  welcome  them ;  and  then  the 
old  lady,  as  she  kissed  Mrs.  Herbert,  said : 

"  I  only  bring  a  small  token  of  love,  the  elder 
has  sent  the  substantials  round  to  the  back  door  •, 
and  she  handed  a  pair  of  most  excellent  yarn  stock 
ings  for  each  of  the  family,  even  to  the  gossamer 
worsted  ones  for  little  Frank,  spun  and  knit  by  her 
own  hands. 

Her  daughters,  one  twelve  and  the  other  fifteen, 
gave  a  patchwork  spread,  beautifully  quilted, 
which  they  had  put  together  themselves.  The  two 
youngest  placed  in  Susie's  hands  a  basket  filled 

10 


218  FKOM   DAWN   TO   DAYLIGHT. 

with  fancy  cakes  of  maple-sugar,  and  in  another 
basket  a  pair  of  little  white  chickens. 

Bill,  meanwhile,  under  Mrs.  Campbell's  direc 
tion,  had  driven  round,  and  was  handing  out  a 
large  bag  of  flour,  a  barrel  of  splendid  fall  apples, 
a  jug  of  country  molasses,  and  a  jar  of  butter,  so 
pure  and  golden  that  Mrs.  Campbell  insisted  on 
bringing  it  into  the  parlor ;  "  for,"  said  she,  "  as 
there^is  no  one  but  the  givers  here,  I  couldn't  think 
of  mixing  it  with  more  that  may  be  sent  in,  before 
our  pastor  and  his  wife  have  seen  it.  Mrs.  Fair- 
child's  butter  is  famous  all  over  the  State." 

And  surely  never  was  such  butter  seen. 

"I  think,"  said  Mr.  Herbert,  "my  wife  will 
at  last  acknowledge  that  she  has  seen  butter  in  the 
West,  that  nearly  equals  her  own  mother's.  That 
is  a  compliment  you  would  be  proud  of,  Mrs.  Fair- 
child,  if  I  could  just  transport  you  to  the  *  Hill 
Farm,'  where  I  wooed  my  wife." 

"  I'm  sure  I  shall  be  greatly  pleased,  if  my  but 
ter  reminds  her  of  her  mother  in  connection  with 
myself.  But  hurry  it  off  to  the  pantry,  Mrs.  Camp 
bell,  for  here  come  other  friends." 

To  save  confusion  and  embarrassment,  Mrs. 
Campbell  had  just  nailed  a  card  to  the  front  gatef 


A  PILL  BOX.  219 

requesting  that  the  eatables,  and  heavier  gifts, 
might  be  taken  to  the  rear  entrance,  where  some 
one  was  stationed  to  receive  and  label  each  article, 
that  the  giver  might  be  recognized  when  the  gifts 
were  examined. 

Dr.  Marvel  and  lady  soon  entered,  and  shaking 
hands  gravely,  the  doctor  offered  Mr.  Herbert  a 
pill-lox  as  his  gift.  Amidst  much  laughter,  he 
begged  to  decline.  The  doctor  pretended  to  feel 
quite  slighted,  and  declared  that  Mrs.  Herbert  was 
too  much  of  a  lady  to  refuse  a  poor  fellow's  gift, 
however  trifling.  A  quick  glance  from  Mrs.  Mar 
vel  was  as  quickly  understood,  and,  when  the  box 
was  offered,  she  took  it  with  many  thanks  and 
a  profound  courtesy. 

"  Ah !"  said  her  husband,  "  my  wife  was  a  physi 
cian's  daughter,  and  probably  has  a  more  kindly 
appreciation  of  the  gift  than  I  can  be  expected  to 
have." 

"  And  you,  sir,  being  a  clergyman,  can  perhaps 
understand  what  virtue  there  may  be  in  these," 
said  our  old  friend  Mr.  Upton,  presenting  a  set  of 
theological  works.  "  I'm  sure  they  are  all  Greek  to 
me." 

"Oh!  just  what  I  was  longing  for,  and  most 


220  FROM  DAWN  TO  DAYLIGHT. 

hopelessly,  the  very  last  time  I  was  in  Stanley's 
book-store.  Notwithstanding  they  are  Greek  to 
you,  friend  Upton,  I  trust  you  will  not  doubt  they 
are  most  acceptable  to  me." 

"  Are  you  afraid  of  opening  that  pill-box,  Mrs. 
Herbert  ?"  said  Upton,  laughing. 

"  Oh,  no !  IVe  enjoyed  a  peep  at  it,  all  by  my 
self.  My  husband  has  no  curiosity,  but  all  who 
will,  may  share  with  me  in  looking,  but  not  hand 
ling  or  tasting /"  and  opening  the  box,  she  displayed 
a  number  of  gold  pieces,  which,  when  Mr.  Her 
bert  saw,  he  assured  her  he  was  on  the  instant 
struck  with  illness,  which  only  such  medicaments 
could  remove. 

A  handsome  box  of  knives  from  Townly,  and  a 
plain,  white  dining  set  from  Stanly,  and  a  pretty 
china  tea-set  from  Burgess,  their  old  boarders,  in 
duced  Mrs.  Campbell  to  tell  them  "they  were 
hinting  a  wish  to  return  to  their  old  table  comforts 
again." 

"Rather,  I  think,"  said  their  former  hostess, 
smiling,  "betraying  a  knowledge  that  the  table 
conveniences  were  rather  limited." 

"!N~o  breach  of  confidence,  I  trust,"  said  Stanly, 

"  If  it  is,"  said  Mr.  Herbert,  "  we  certainly  feel 


THE   EEPAST.  221 


more  c  honored  in  the  breach  than  in  the  observ 


ance.'" 


We  will  not  stop  to  comment  on  each  new  arri 
val,  or  the  many  sportive  remarks  between  the 
givers  and  receivers.  In  a  short  time  the  house 
was  filled  to  its  utmost  capacity. 

About  nine  o'clock,  supper  was  announced.  The 
ladies  had  found  it  necessary,  as  the  parsonage  was 
too  small,  to  spread  their  table  in  an  empty  tene 
ment  belonging  to  the  premises,  only  a  step  from 
the  house,  and  the  guests  were  requested  to  follow 
the  pastor  and  his  lady  at  once  to  the  room,  where 
they  found  such  a  table  as  none  but  real  western 
hospitality  could  spread.  It  would  take  too  much 
space  to  attempt  a  minute  description.  Tea  and 
coffee,  which  neither  China  nor  France  could  sur 
pass  ;  the  richest  of  cream,  in  no  stinted  measure. 
Every  imaginable  kind  and  form  of  cake,  pies, 
bread,  biscuit,  and  sweetmeats.  Ham,  tongue, 
turkey,  chickens,  birds  and  game — baked  meats, 
ornamented  with  every  fancy  that  the  genius  of 
cookery  could  devise  were  there,  most  tastefully 
decked  with  vines  and  flowers. 

The  supper  passed  off  without  a  shadow  to  mar 
the  enjoyment.  Even  the  little  folk,  for  once,  had 


222  FEOM  DAWN   TO   DAYLIGHT. 

no  cause  to  complain  that  they  were  overlooked,  or 
had  not  an  opportunity  to  taste  all,  and  as  much 
as  their  parents  would  allow. 

From  the  table  they  returned  to  the  parsonage, 
and  the  following  hymn,  written  for  the  occasion, 
was  sung : 

FOR  THE 

DONATION  VISIT  TO  REV.  GEORGE  HERBERT. 

AIR — Ariel. 

In  social  harmony  we  meet — 

With  heart  and  hand  each  other  greet, 

In  friendship's  warm  embrace ; 
Thankful  for  common  mercies  shared — 
Nor  less  to  meet,  as  we  are  spar'd, 

In  this  thrice-happy  place. 

Not  from  the  well-springs  of  the  heart, 
Should  joy's  full  streams  flow  on  apart, 

But  mingle  into  one  ; — 
The  generous  vine  supported  lives, 
Strengthened  by  the  embrace  it  gives, 

In  either  shade  or  sun. 

Pastor  and  people  here  convene, 
And  mingle  in  one  grateful  scene 

Of  thankfulness  and  joy  ; 
And  while  with  gifts  our  hands  are  stor'd, 
Our  hearts  unite,  with  full  accord, 

In  love  without  alloy. 


223 


When  "in  one  place,  with  one  accord ;" 
As  the  disciples  of  our  Lord 

In  ancient  times  were  met, 
The  Spirit  came,  with  mighty  power — 
And  the  brief  record  of  that  hour 
Inspires  his  followers  yet. 

The  age  of  miracles  is  past — 
But  love  divine  will  always  last, 

And  love  from  man  to  man ; 
The  heart,  warm'd  by  the  Spirit's  flame, 
In  every  age  abides  the  same, 

Through  one  all-glorious  plan. 

"  Love  never  fails  " — but  e'er  abides — 
And,  joinM  with  duty,  well  provides — 

For  laborers  faithful  found  ; 
Sure,  then,  our  task  must  pleasure  be 
Now  to  reward  fidelity, 

With  genius  richly  crowned. 

Mr.  Herbert  then  offered  a  fervent  prayer,  and 
with  many  kind  words  the  company  gradually 
departed,  leaving  behind  them  and  carrying  with 
them  tenfold  more  love  for  each  other  than  they 
had  ever  felt  before. 

As  their  friends  were  leaving,  it  was  not  strange 
that  the  thought  should  cross  Mrs.  Herbert's  mind, 
"  How  are  we  ever  to  put  our  rooms  in  order,  so  as  to 
be  able  to  sleep  to-night,  and  now  past  11  o'clock?" 


224  FROM  DAWN  TO  DAYLIGHT. 

The  beds,  furniture,  etc.,  had  been  placed  in  the 
back  yard,  and  the  books  on  the  veranda.  But 
she  soon  saw  that  the  managers  were  not  intending 
to  leave  their  work  half  done. 

A  kind  hint,  kindly  taken,  dispersed  all  who 
were  not  needed  for  effectual  service.  Four  or 
five  ladies  and  a  dozen  gentlemen  remained,  and, 
refusing  any  assistance  from  the  family,  were  at 
once  busy  in  " repairing  damages"  as Townly  said. 

In  an  inconceivably  short  time,  the  beds  were  up 
and  made,  and  little  Susie  and  the  babies  snugly 
sleeping  in  their  appropriate  resting-places.  Books, 
as  if  by  magic,  walked  back  into  their  proper 
nooks,  and  in  less  than  an  hour  one  could  hardly 
realize  what  lively  scenes  had  just  been  passing 
there. 

As  the  young  gentlemen  said  good  night,  one  of 
their  number,  in  the  name  of  the  whole,  presented 
Mr.  Herbert  with  a  pocket-book,  and  good  Mother 
Tompkins  said,  "  all  is  in  order,  except  the  sweep 
ing.  "We've  had  girls  at  work  doing  up  dishes, 
and  putting  away  the  food,  and  in  the  morning  you 
will  only  have  to  place  the  articles  to  suit  yourself. 
Each  lady  has  carried  home  with  her  all  her  own 
dishes,  and  you  will  have  nothing  to  send  back 


225 


Some  of  us  will  see  you  in  the  course  of  the  day 
— -to-morrow.  Good  night."  And  with  the  warm 
thanks  and  true  love  of  their  pastor's  family,  the 
good  mothers  in  Israel  departed. 

The  parcel  handed  by  the  young  man  contained 
fifty  dollars. 

"  And  now,  sister  Susan,  do  you  call  this  party 
a  failure  ?"  said  Mr.  Herbert,  when  the  last  guest 
had  departed. 

"  Certainly  not,  as  far  as  enjoyment  goes,  for  I 
have  never  spent  a  more  delightful  evening." 

"  And  I  am  sure,"  said  Mary,  "  you  can't  call 
the  gifts  a  failure.  Their  pecuniary  value,  judging 
only  from  the  little  I  have  seen,  is  fourfold  more 
than  I  dreamed  of." 

"  Well,  I  shan't  decide  about  that  till  I've  seen 
all.  The  fact  is,  I  must  confess  to  a  large  share 
of  Eve's  curiosity.  I  doiibt  if  I  can  sleep  well  till 
I  take  a  peep  into  the  pantries  and  that  little  bed 
room.  Are  you  sleepy,  Mary  2" 

"  Not  a  bit." 

"  Nor  you,  George  ?" 

"  No,  not  I.  I'm  perfectly  ready  for  an  explor 
ing  expedition.  We'll  take  the  pantries  first." 

The  flour,  meal,  pork,  ham,  chickens,  eggs,  and 
10* 


226  FROM   DAWN   TO   DAYLIGHT. 

butter  and  vegetables,  were  of  no  trifling  value. 
As  for  the  cooked  food,  Mrs.  "Ward  said  they  would 
have  to  make  a  party  every  day  in  the  week,  and 
invite  the  town,  in  order  to  save  it. 

In  the  little  room  were  several  pieces  of  flannel, 
of  various  qualities,  lengths  and  colors.  Two  webs, 
or  "  cuts,"  as  they  were  called,  of  bleached  cotton, 
two  delaines,  and  three  calico  dresses  for  Mrs.  Her 
bert,  several  for  the  children.  Gloves,  hosiery, 
thread,  pins,  needles,  tape,  and  something  of  almost 
every  article  that  seamstress  or  housekeeper  could 
ask  for,  which,  together  with  the  new  suits  which 
they  had  on,  the  parlor  furnishing  and  the  money, 
Mr.  Herbert  calculated  would  amount  to  more 
than  two  hundred  dollars. 

"  What  an  assistance  this  party  will  prove," 
said  Mary.  "  And  then  to  be  relieved  from  the 
painful  necessity  of  bringing  our  affairs  before  our 
people,  and  insisting  upon  the  prompt  payment  of 
our  promised  support,  or  being  compelled  to  leave 
just  as  we  have  begun  to  love  them.  This  kind 
ness  will,  at  least,  enable  us  to  defer  the  evil  day, 
and  to  settle  two  or  three  bills,  which  have  mor 
tified  me  exceedingly." 

"  Ah,    sister !    have    you    already    become    so 


WHAT  WILL   BE  THE  EFFECT?  227 

acclimated  as  to  be   content  to    defer    the   evil 
day?" 

"No,  indeed!  anything  but  content;  but  is  it 
not  best,  when  all  your  efforts  will  not  overcome  an 
evil,  to  try  and  hope  that,  while  you  endeavor  to 
endure  it  patiently,  something  more  potent  than 
your  feeble  struggles  may  come  in  by  and  by,  and 
remove  it  altogether.  I  hardly  dare  hope  it,  and 
yet,  there  is  so  much  of  real  good  feeling,  so  much 
heart  among  this  people,  that  they  only  need  some 
shock  to  rouse  them  to  the  sense  of  their  duty,  and 
that  once  done,  I  do  not  fear  their  settling  down 
into  thoughtlessness  again." 

"  Perhaps  the  only  thing  that  will  do  that,  may 
be  the  loss  of  a  minister  whom  they  love  so  well, 
as  I  have  not  a  doubt  they  do  brother  George." 

"  That  would  be  as  painful  to  us  as  it  could  be 
to  them,"  said  Mr.  Herbert ;  "  but  if  that  is  the 
only  way,  then  there  is  this  comfort,  that  whoever 
takes  my  place  will  be  benefited  by  their  wak 
ing  up." 

"I  doubt  it.  But  if  the  money  you  have 
received  to-night  must  go  to  pay  debts,  which  their 
remissness  has  compelled  you  to  contract,  when 
these  provisions  are  exhausted,  will  the  influence 


FROM   DAWN   TO   DAYLIGHT. 

of  this  party  be,  to  make  your  people  more  prompt 
in  their  future  payments ;  or  rather,  will  it  not  be 
used  as  an  excuse  for  greater  remissness  in  future  ? 
That  was  what  I  feared  when  the  party  was  first 
proposed.  It  has  been  the  effect  of  all  that  have 
come  within  my  knowledge.  How  will  it  be  with 
your  people  ?" 

"  "Well,"  said  Mr.  Herbert,  somewhat  sadly,  "  I 
fear  our  people  will  prove  no  exception.  Those 
who  have  the  charge  of  the  monetary  affairs  of  the 
church,  had  nothing  to  do  with  this  pleasant  day, 
and,  I  noticed,  were  not  among  the  callers,  even. 
The  whole  thing  has  been  planned  and  executed 
by  warm  personal  friends,  who  would  gladly  give 
us  double  the  salary  we  now  have,  and  pay  us 
promptly,  if  they  i  were  to  the  fore?  " 

"  Then,  why  don't  they  make  a  commotion,  and 
place  the  management  in  the  hands  of  those  who 
will  do  their  duty." 

"Why?  Just  because  they  don't  like  to  seem  to 
interfere — don't  like  trouble,  etc.  Excepting  good 
old  Father  Tompkins,  they  have  the  true  western 
dislike  of  any  extra  exertion,  and  trust  to  time 
to  Iring  all  right.  They  are  energetic  enough  in 
making  money,  but  have  serious  objections  to  any 


KINDNESS   FKOM  THE   HEAUT. 

self-sacrih'ce  of  ease  or  quiet,  for  other  people, 
especially  for  the  support  of  preaching.  It  is  a 
great  fault  of  character  in  this  country,  though  one 
which,  I  think,  will  change  as  the  country  grows 
older;  but  it  will  not  be  in  my  day,  however. 
There  are  scores  of  ministers  worse  paid  than  I  am ; 
but  those  who  come  after  us  will  reap  the  fruit  of 
our  toil  and  self-denial. 

"  But  for  this  one  night,  I  will  '  hang  care,'  and 
forget,  as  long  as  I  can,  in  the  memory  of  the 
pleasure  we  have  just  enjoyed,  the  perplexities 
which  will  make  themselves  heard  soon  enough,  I 
dare  say.  At  any  rate,  the  kindness  this  day  mani 
fested  was  Teal  and  from  the  heart,  and  we  will 
overlook  the  faults  and  short-comings  of  some,  in 
the  sincere  love  and  good  intentions  of  others. 
And  now,  good  night." 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

A  WELCOME  VISIT  AND   A   SAD   PAKTING. 

-A  FEW  weeks  after  the  "  donation  visit,"  a  very 
deal  friend  and  relative  of  Mrs.  Herbert  came 
from  the  East,  to  reside  for  some  time  in  her  family. 
It  was  a  rich  treat  to  see  an  old,  familiar  face,  and 
to  be  able  to  ask  those  endless  questions  of  home 
and  its  inmates,  which  can  never  be  asked,  or  an 
swered  satisfactorily,  by  writing. 

Helen  Mason  had  spent  some  weeks  at  Dr. 
Leighton's  just  before  leaving  the  East. 

She  was  an  orphan,  and  almost  like  a  child  to 
Mrs.  Leighton,  and  had  been  as  a  sister  to  .Mary 
before  her  marriage.  Mary's  parents  were  now 
alone,  their  children  scattered  all  over  the  land. 
Harry  and  John  were  both  in  college,  though  the 
latter' s  health,  it  was  feared,  would  prevent  his  com 
pleting  his  education  in  a  manner  satisfactory  to 
himself. 

230 


INCREASING   POPULARITY.  231 

Harry  was  on  his  last  year  at  college,  and  would, 
immediately  after  leaving,  enter  upon  the  study  of 
medicine. 

It  was  sad  to  think  of  her  parents  left  soli 
tary  in  the  evening  of  life;  but  Helen  assured 
her  she  had  never  seen  them  happier,  though 
the  doctor  was  less  active  than  in  former 
years. 

In  the  pleasant  society  of  her  husband,  aided 
by  her  cousin's  busy  fingers,  the  winter  and  spring 
passed  more  pleasantly  in  many  respects  than  the 
last,  though  darkened  somewhat  by  the  old  trouble 
of  non-payment,  and  the  fear  of  being  eventually 
compelled  to  leave,  on  that  account.  They  were 
determined  to  put  off  that  day  as  long  as  possible, 
for  though  they  felt  how  utterly  inexcusable,  not 
to  say  dishonest,  such  laxity  was,  yet  their  hearts 
clung  very  closely  to  their  people,  notwithstanding 
all,  and  they  shrunk  with  intense  pain  from  the 
bare  idea  of  leaving  them. 

Mr.  Herbert  was  rapidly  growing  in  the  estima 
tion,  not  only  of  the  inhabitants  of  Norton,  but 
his  talent  and  influence  were  becoming  widely 
known  and  appreciated  throughout  the  State. 
Protracted  meetings  were  common,  and  on  those 


232  FROM   DAWN  TO   DAYLIGHT. 

occasions  he  was  invariably  sought  after,  and  was 
often  absent  weeks  at  a  time.  His  people  were 
very  prond  of  his  popularity,  or,  as  Mr.  Upton,  in 
his  outspoken  manner^  often  told  them,  "  were  very 
ready  to  show  off  his  i  good  points J  but  never 
willing  to  pay  for  them,  excepting  in  words, 
and  some  of  these  days  they  would  receive  their 
reward,  by  seeing  some  church  walk  off  with  their 
"  Dominie,'  who  could  just  as  highly  appreciate, 
and  were  more  ready  to  compensate  labors  per 
formed." 

Yery  many  applications  had  been  already  made 
and  quietly  declined,  though  Cousin  Helen  once  told 
him  she  intended  to  report  every  one  she  could 
hear  of,  and  try  if  that  would  not  scare  the  people 
of  Norton  into  seeing  the  folly  of  expecting  him 
to  labor  without  remuneration.  But  Mr.  Herbert 
always  said :  "  ISTo,  if  honor  and  a  sense  of  justice 
can't  induce  them  to  do  their  duty,  I  certainly  shall 
not  attempt  to  influence  them  through  fear  or  self 
ishness." 

Late  in  the  spring,  Mrs.  Jackson  began  to  show 
symptoms  of  decline.  She  had  taken  a  sudden 
cold,  and  was  now  confined  to  her  bed,  with  little 
hope  of  recovery.  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Herbert  saw  her 


SUDDENLY   RALLYING.  233 

almost  every  day,  and  were  pained  at  the  rapid 
failure  of  lier  strength. 

Dr.  Marvel  trusted  at  first,  if  she  lingered  till 
June,  she  might  rally,  for  some  months  at  least, 
but  now  there  seemed  little  hope  of  that. 

Mrs.  Herbert  had  never  realized,  till  now,  how 
much  she  had  depended  on  this  tried  friend,  for 
sympathy  and  comfort  at  all  times.  She  was  ever 
gentle  and  unobtrusive,  and  there  was  a  charm 
about  her  that  won  all  hearts. 

One  warm,  cheerful  morning,  Mr.  Herbert  came 
home  from  a  visit  to  their  sick  friend,  and  reported 
that  the  last  few  days  of  settled  warm  weather  had 
produced  a  most  wonderful  effect  upon  her,  so  much 
so  that  her  family  were  feeling  encouraged,  and  she 
had  herself  admitted  that  she  felt  equal  to  an  old- 
fashioned  visit  from  her  pastor's  family.  He  had 
therefore  promised  that  they  would  come  to  dinner, 
and  spend  the  day.  Ben  was  to  be  round  for 
them  in  an  hour  or  two. 

Mrs.  Herbert  appeared  troubled,  fearing  it 
would  be  too  much  for  her  friend;  "and  be 
sides,"  said  she,  "this  sudden  rallying  frightens 
me." 

"  If  it  were  not  so  warm,  and  so  near  June,  I 


23  i  FEOM  DAWN   TO  DAYLIGHT. 

should  myself  be  greatly  alarmed ;  but  whatever 
may  be  the  result  of  her  present  comfortable  state, 
she  has  set  her  heart  on  this  visit,  and  her  family 
are  unwilling  she  should  be  disappointed.  You 
can  easily  judge  if  the  excitement  is  likely  to  injure 
her,  and  if  so,  we  can  leave  at  any  time.  None  of 
us  need  be  in  her  room  any  longer  than  she  can  see 
us  without  fatigue ;  and  aside  from  Mrs.  Jackson's 
urgency,  one  thing  that  induced  me  to  consent  to 
the  arrangement  was  the  worn,  dispirited  looks  of 
Jessie  and  Hattie.  They  have  been  so  long  con 
fined,  and  have  suffered  so  much  anxiety  for  their 
mother,  that  I  thought  a  little  cheerful  society 
might  be  beneficial." 

Ben  came  promptly,  and  soon  conveyed  them  to 
the  pleasant  home  at  Woodlands.  To  Mrs.  Her 
bert's  surprise,  they  found  the  invalid  sitting  up. 
and  looking  so  bright  and  lovely,  that  Cousin 
Nellie  could  not  realize  that  there  was  any  danger. 
But  to  the  more  experienced  eyes  which  were 
watching  her,  it  was  a  loveliness  most  intensely 
painful.  She  received  them  with  all  her  usual 
gentleness,  and  more  than  the  usual  affectionate- 
ness,  saying,  she  could  not  have  borne  the  disap 
pointment,  had  they  not  come. 


I  AM  DYING.  235 

After  a  short  time,  the  gentlemen  went  out  for  a 
walk,  and  the  daughters  took  Helen  and  the 
children  into  the  garden,  leaving  Mrs.  Herbert 
with  their  mother.  The  friends  conversed  freely,  for 
some  time,  recalling  their  first  meeting,  and  all  the 
way  they  had  been  led  to  their  present  friendship. 
A  short  silence  ensued,  each  too  busy  with  thought, 
for  words.  At  length,  Mrs.  Jackson  took  Mary's 
hand,  and  looking  earnestly  into  her  face,  said — 

"  "What  do  you  think  of  my  case  ?  You,  surely 
are  not  deceived,  with  the  rest  of  my  dear  ones,  by 
this  revival  of  strength  ?" 

The  suddenness  of  the  question  quite  startled  her 
friend,  and  before  she  could  reply,  Mrs.  Jackson 
added : 

"  It  was  for  this  I  wished  so  much  to  see  you, 
but  fear  I  may  have  taxed  your  friendship  too  far. 
You  need  not  reply  to  my  question,  dear  Mrs.  Her 
bert  ;  I  know  that  my  days  are  numbered.  I  shall 
not  live  a  week ;  I  do  not  think  I  shall  see  another 
rising  sun.  But  my  poor  husband  and  children 
are  sadly  deceiving  themselves  with  falsl  hopes, 
which,  to  my  surprise,  Dr.  Marvel  does  not  discou 
rage.  I  have  not  the  strength  or  heart  to  tell 
them  that  I  am  dying.  "Will  not  you  and  Mr.  Her- 


236  FROM  DAWK   TO   DAYLIGHT. 

bert  tell  them  the  truth  ?  And  the  sooner  after  din 
ner,  the  better  for  them,  poor  things  I" 

"  What  makes  you  think  so,  dear  Mrs.  Jackson  ? 
You  look  so  much  better,  your  voice  is  clearer, 
and  in  every  way,  you  seem  stronger  than  I  have 
known  you  for  weeks." 

"  Ah !  dear  friend,  my  disease  is  a  deceitful 
one;  but  I  am  thankful  that  I  am  not  myself 
blinded  by  it.  In  this  sudden  increase  of  strength, 
I  read  a  warning  to  set  my  house  in  order  imme 
diately,  and  with  my  lamp  trimmed,  and  burning, 
be  ready  for  the  bridegroom,  at  any  moment. 

"  '  I  see  a  hand  you  cannot  see, 
It  beckons  me  away.* 

"  Do  not  weep  for  me.  All  is  peace,  and  I 
think  I  am  ready  to  depart ;  only  my  poor,  weak 
heart  shrinks  from  saying  this  to  my  loved  ones, 
and  coward-like,  I  have  laid  the  burden  on  you." 

"  Oh !  do  not  say  so.  My  husband  and  myself 
will  gladly  spare  you  any  pain — but " — 

"  But  you  know,  my  friend,  that  I  am  not  mis 
taken.  I  saw  it  in  your  startled  look,  and  pallid 
face,  when  you  entered  my  room.  I  think  your 
husband  understands  it  also,  for  his  prayer  with  me 


A   HARD   TASK.  237 

this  morning  was  that  ol  a  faithful  pastor,  by  a 
death-led.  Oh,  you  have  both  been  such  blessings 
to  me  and  mine !  Do  you  know,  Meggie  yesterday 
told  me  she  thought  she  had  found  the  Saviour, 
and  now  as  my  last  lamb  is  gathered  into  the  fold, 
I  am  willing  to  leave  them  all  with  the  good 
Shepherd,  and  go  home  to  rest  and  heaven." 

Poor  Mrs.  Herbert !  It  was  a  hard  task  to  go 
out  to  that  hospitable  board,  where  she  had  so  often 
sat  with  its  gentle  mistress,  bearing  in  her  heart 
such  a  message,  and  yet  bound  to  conceal  it  till 
they  had  taken  the  last  cheerful  meal  together, 
they  would  probably  know  for  a  long  time.  But 
she  bore  her  part  in  the  conversation  so  calmly, 
that  not  even  her  husband  perceived  she  was  con 
cealing  anxiety,  under  a  quiet  exterior. 

As  soon  as  she  left  the  table,  she  stepped  aside 
with  Mr.  Herbert,  and  told  him  of  Mrs.  Jackson's 
request.  She  found  him  less  surprised  than  she 
had  been,  and  also  learned  that,  while  walking 
with  Mr.  Jackson,  he  had  intimated  to  him  what 
he  feared.  They  thought  it  best  to  return  at  once 
to  the  family,  when  Mr.  Herbert  would,  as  gently 
as  possible,  inform  them  what  was  so  much  to  be 
apprehended, 


238  FEOM   DAWN   TO    DAYLIGHT. 

Very  tenderly  was  this  most  painful  of  all  duties, 
which  falls  to  a  pastor's  lot,  performed. 

And  deeply  did  Mr.  Jackson  grieve,  and  bitter 
were  the  tears  shed  by  those  loving  children,  for, 
though  they  had  long  feared  this,  when  was  ever 
the  heart  prepared  to  yield  up  its  treasures  ? 
When  did  Death  ever  find  friends  ready  for  his 
immediate  approach  ?  But  he  was  nearer  to  the 
sorrowing  group  than  any  imagined,  save  the  one 
for  whom  they  mourned.  She  was  not  surprised, 
or  taken  unawares. 

While  they  sat  weeping  over  their  pastor's  com 
munication,  they  were  hastily  summoned  to  the 
sick-room.  She  still  sat  where  Mrs.  Herbert  had 
left  her,  but  oh !  how  changed !  The  bright  rose 
tint  had  fled  from  her  cheek,  the  death  damps  were 
on  her  brow ;  but  the  eye  still  shone  with  unutter 
able  tenderness,  and  the  old,  familiar,  and  most 
beautiful  smile,  still  hovered  about  her  lips. 

"Thanks,  dear  friends!  Your  message  was  de 
livered  none  too  soon.  I  am  going  fast,  and  so 
happy !  My  dear  husband — my  precious  children !" 

One  gasp — an  instant's  struggle — and  she  has 
safely  passed  the  dark  river,  and 

"  Life's  fever  fit  is  o'er." 


BEREAVEMENT.  239 

Little  Maggie,  with  a  scream,  threw  herself  at 
ner  mother's  feet,  and  buried  her  face  in  her  lap, 
and  the  rest  stood,  stricken  dumb,  or  paralyzed  by 
the  suddenness  of  the  blow. 

Mr.  Herbert  knelt  a  moment  by  the  side  of  the 
dear  saint,  and  poured  out  a  prayer  for  comfort 
and  support;  then  rising,  took  her  gently  in  his 
arms,  and  laid  her  on  the  bed,  while  Mrs.  Herbert, 
approaching,  closed  those  eyes,  that  but  a  moment 
before  were  beaming  with  love  on  the  sad  weepers 
around  her;  then  taking  her  husband's  arm,  passed 
silently  out,  leaving  the  family  alone  with  their 
dead  !  Poor  Mary !  the  daughters  could  hardly 
have  felt  more  truly  bereaved. 

Mr.  Herbert  left  her  for  a  short  time,  to  procure 
such  assistance  as  was  needed,  and  then  returned  to 
report  to  Mr.  Jackson,  and  offer  any  other  service, 
in  his  power  to  render. 

He  found  his  wife  comforting,  by  her  silent 
sympathy  and  tenderness,  the  sorrowing  family, 
and  Mr.  Jackson  thanked  him  with  tears  for  the 
relief  from  present  arrangements,  which  his 
thoughtful  kindness  had  afforded  him. 

While  they  were  yet  speaking,  a  carriage  drove 
rapidly  to  the  door,  and  the  driver  hurriedly 


24:0  FEOM  DAWN   TO   DAYLIGHT. 

inquired  for  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Herbert.  Instinctively, 
all  felt  that  some  other  trial  was  near.  . 

"Mrs.  Tompkins  was  taken  ill  last  night,  and 
Dr.  Marvel  now  thinks  cannot  live  an  hour.  She  is 
exceedingly  anxious  to  see  you  both,  immediately." 

It  was  a  terrible  shock  to  all.  "  Why,"  said 
Mr.  Herbert,  "  it  was  only  at  sunset  last  evening, 
that  I  stood  with  her  at  the  gate,  and  she  seemed 
as  well  and  cheerful  as  ever." 

Cousin  Helen  and  the  children  were  called,  and 
the  pastor  and  his  family  turning,  with  heavy 
hearts,  from  these  dear  friends,  were  soon  on  their 
way  to  the  probable  death-bed  of  another  of  their 
best  and  truest  supporters. 

Few  words  were  spoken,  for  Mary,  who  had 
struggled  bravely  with  her  tears  while  at  Mr.  Jack- 
son's,  could  no  longer  restrain  them,  and  her  kind 
husband,  feeling  that  it  would  be  a  relief,  and  enable 
her  more  calmly  to  meet  the  trial  in  prospect,  al 
lowed  her  to  weep  unrestrainedly  for  some  minutes. 

But  as  they  drew  near  the  house,  which  had  been 
to  them  a  second  home,  he  laid  his  hand  fondly  on 
hers,  saying : 

"  My  dear  wife,  try  now  to  compose  yourself, 
that  we  may,  to  the  best  of  our  abilities,  comfort 


IS   THEEE    ANY    HOPE  ?  24:1 

the  stricken  friends  to  whom  we  go.  It  is  very, 
very  trying;  but  my  Mary  will  forget  her  own 
grief  for  a  time,  to  soothe  and  support  those  who 
must  be  even  more  deeply  afflicted." 

"  Yes,  dear.  But,  oh !  George,  these  last  few 
hours  are  so  like  a  horrible  dream." 

u  We  shall  find  it  a  sad  reality,  and  must  look 
for  strength  from  on  high.  Yain  is  the  help  of 
man,  and  never  more  truly  realized,  than  in  such 
dark  hours  as  these." 

Nellie  and  the  children  went  directly  to  the  par 
sonage,  but  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Herbert  entered  the 
house  of  mourning,  and  were  met  at  the  door  by 
Dr.  Marvel. 

"  Is  there  any  hope  ?"  asked  Mr.  Herbert. 

"  Not  a  shadow  !  You.  must  hasten.  She  has 
taken  leave  of  husband  and  children,  and-I  think 
the  spirit  lingers  only  for  you,  to  find  release  from 
the  most  terrible  sufferings  I  ever  witnessed.  She 
is  easier  now,  but  just  gone  !" 

They  passed  quietly  to  her  bedside.  What  a 
change  in  one  short  day !  But,  oh !  how  full  of 
love  unutterable  was  the  smile  with  which,  she 
greeted  them !  Taking  both  their  hands,  and  carry 
ing  them  to  her  cold  lips,  she  said,  feebly : 

11 


242  FEOM  DAWN  TO  DAYLIGHT. 

"  I  waited  but  for  this.  In  an  hour  least  ex 
pected  the  summons  came,  but  I  trust  it  found  me 
not  unprepared.  Bless  you,  my  dear  children,  for 
such  you  are  to  me.  To  your  friendship  and  love, 
my  daughter,  and  your  faithful  teachings,  my  dear 
son,  I  owe  the  happiest  and  purest  days  of  my  life. 
I  leave  my  poor  husband  to  your  tenderness,  and 
gentle  ministrations,  for  the  few  days  that  separate 
us ;  and  my  children — you  will  not  cease  to  pray 
for,  and  watch  over  them.  God  comfort  and  bless 
you  all!" 

A  shadow  passed  over  her  face — the  light  faded 
from  her  eye,  the  feeble  breath  grew  fainter  and 
fainter. 

"  She  is  gone,"  said  Dr.  Marvel ;  but  suddenly 
she  opened  her  eyes — the  films  of  death  lifting 
for  a  moment,  she  looked  lovingly  on  each  sad 
face,  and  tried  to  speak;  but  again  darkness 
encompassed  her,  and  after  a  short,  faint  struggle, 
Mary,  for  the  second  time  that  day,  closed  the  eyes 
of  one,  who  had  been  to  her  a  blessing  and  support. 
How  much  she  had  loved,  trusted  and  leaned  upon 
her,  as  an  unfailing  friend,  she  had  never  realized 
till  now. 

The  death  of  two,  so  widely  known,  and  highly 


THE  DEPAETED  ONES.  243 

esteemed,  cast  a  shadow  over  the  whole  commu 
nity.  They  were  among  the  first  settlers  of  the 
town,  coming  to  take  up  their  abode  there,  when 
one  store,  a  log  church,  and  four  log  cabins  were 
all  that  constituted  the  village. 

Mrs.  Jackson's  death  had  been  long  expected ; 
and  though  sudden  at  last,  the  shock  could  not  be 
as  severe  as  Mrs.  Tompkins'  removal  had  occasioned. 
But  a  day  before,  and  she  was,  to  all  appearances, 
well,  and  none  seemed  more  sure  of  many  years, 
of  health  and  usefulness. 

She  was  attacked  late  at  night,  with  a  chill, 
which  terminated  in  congestion. 

The  next  Sabbath,  the  day  appointed  for  the  two 
funerals,  was  one  long  to  be  remembered.  Few  who 
were  present  will  ever  forget  their  pastor's  sermon, 
and  the  strong  affection  he  so  freely  and  publicly 
manifested  for  both  the  departed  ones,  made  it  even 
more  impressive.  He  had  felt  all  the  morning  that 
it  would  be  only  by  a  great  effort  that  he  could  go 
through  the  services,  it  was  so  like  preaching  a 
mother's  funeral  sermon.  But  when  he  ascended 
the  pulpit,  and  saw  before  him  those  two  coffins — 
the  double  loss,  to  himself  and  wife,  aside  from  grief 
for  the  weeping  families  before  him,  overcame 


244  FEOM  DAWN  TO   DAYLIGHT. 

him  for  a  moment,  and  he  bowed  his  head  upon 
the  Bible  before  him,  to  hide  emotion  he  could  not 
suppress. 

I  will  dwell  no  longer  on  this  part  of  my  narra 
tive.  Each  reader  can  imagine  such  a  burial  far 
better  than  I  can  describe,  and  the  return  to  two 
such  homes,  made  desolate.  To  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
Herbert  the  loss  was  irreparable,  and  though  many, 
very  dear,  yet  remained,  none  were  ever  found  to 
fill  the  places  in  their  hearts,  which  these  beloved 
friends  had  occupied. 


CHAPTEE  XV. 

A  JOUENET. 

WE  will  pass  lightly  over  the  record  of  the  next 
year,  marked  by  no  incident  which  will  materially 
increase  whatever  interest  may  be  found  in  these 
pages,  but  filled  with  those  little  corroding  cares 
and  anxieties  that  eat  away  health,  and  courage, 
like  a  canker.  Labor  beyond  the  strength,  the 
closest  management  and  increasingly  poor  pay,  are 
things  which  do  not  make  any  great  sensation  in  a 
story,  but  they  fill  early  graves  as  surely  as  broken 
hearts  or  disappointed  affections ;  and  it  was  such 
cares  which  were  withering  the  roses  on  Mary's 
cheek,  and  making  her  husband  prematurely  old. 

Mrs.  Herbert's  failing  health  was  a  source  of 
great  sorrow  to  her  husband,  and  of  no  little  un 
easiness  to  herself.  The  chills  and  fever,  which 
had  afflicted  her  for  more  than  two  years,  had 
severely  tried  her  naturally  fine  constitution,  and 

245 


246  FKOH  DAWN   TO  DAYLIGHT. 

now  there  were  indications  which  led  them  to  fear 
serious  affection  of  the  lungs. 

Her  cousin's  presence  with  them  had  been  a  most, 
invaluable  assistance  and  blessing.  She  was  a 
charming  girl,  very  lovely  in  person,  and  in  char 
acter  still  more  attractive.  Always  cheerful,  and 
never  idle,  she  was  one  of  the  very  few  persons 
who  can  reside  for  any  length  of  time  in  a  family, 
and  never  be  a  restraint. 

She  had  been  with  them  some  months,  when  certain 
calls  began  to  wear  a  somewhat  suspicious  charac 
ter.  Mr.  Francis  was  a  business  man  of  the  place, 
somewhat  older  than  Mr.  Herbert,  but  an  intimate 
friend.  Within  the  year,  he,  together  with  a  large 
number,  of  whom  Helen  was  one,  united  with  the 
church.  He  was  a  man  whom  most  would  call 
eccentric,  and  not  very  likely  to  be  a  general 
favorite;  but  possessing  many  sterling  traits  of 
character,  calculated  to  attach  those  who  under 
stood  him  very  strongly,  and  when  once  they  had 
learned  to  judge  him  by  his  heart,  his  peculiarities 
were  sources  of  perpetual  amusement,  rather  than 
any  annoyance. 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  Herbert  had  fancied  him  from  the 
first,  and  a  warm  friendship  had  sprung  up  between 


PROPOSALS.  24:7 

them ;  but  they  were  quite  taken  by  surprise  when 
they  learned  that  there  was  a  stronger  feeling  than 
friendship  in  his  regard  for  Helen. 

Like  an  honorable  man,  he  applied  to  those  who 
were  her  most  natural  advisers  and  guardians,  be 
fore  in  any  way  intimating  his  wishes  to  the  lady. 
"When  their  astonishment  would  allow  them  to 
think  calmly,  they  frankly  told  him  that  his  age 
was  their  only  objection,  and  if  Miss  Helen  could 
overlook  that,  certainly  no  one  else  need  be 
troubled  by  it. 

With  their  permission,  therefore,  he  proceeded  at 
once  to  make  known  his  feelings  to  their  cousin, 
in  a  frank  and  manly  manner.  To  her  it  was  as 
unexpected  as  to  her  friends,  but  she  had  long 
known  him,  and  once  known,  it  was  not  hard  for 
one  so  persevering  to  teach  her  to  love  as  well  as 
esteem. 

Of  course  their  engagement  gave  rise  to  a  great 
variety  of  remarks,  of  little  consequence  to  any, 
and  certainly  of  none  to  the  parties  concerned. 

Mr.  Francis  was  earnest,  but  very  reasonable, 
and  felt  that  he  ought  not  to  urge  an  early  day  for 
their  marriage,  on  Mrs.  Herbert's  account.  An 
other  son  had,  within  a  few  weeks,  been  added  to 


24:8  FKOM   DAWN   TO   DAYLIGHT. 

tlieir  number,  and  as  the  mother  continuing  more 
than  usually  weak,  her  cousin  determined  to  re 
main  with  her  some  months  longer,  and  take  a 
larger  amount  of  care  upon  herself,  by  way  of 
making  experiments  in  housekeeping. 

"When  Mrs.  Herbert  was  able  to  go  out  a  little, 
she  was  urged  to  spend  a  week  or  two  with  her 
husband  at  his  brother  Frank's.  A  revival  being 
in  progress  among  his  people,  George's  assistance, 
in  a  series  of  meetings,  was  yery  desirable.  All 
her  friends  were  urgent  that  the  visit  should  be 
made,  and  Helen  said : 

"  You  will  never  have  a  better  time ;  for  it  is 
not  always  that  you  will  be  able  to  leave  your 
family  in  such  competent  hands." 

But,  though  she  greatly  desired  to  go,  none 
knew  so  well  as  herself,  that  they  ought  not  to 
spare  the  money  necessary  to  take  them  to  Stan- 
wood,  and  home  again. 

To  Mr.  Francis'  credit,  he  was  the  first  to  suspect 
the  true  reason,  and  one  evening,  as  he  was  leav 
ing,  said: 

"  Mrs.  Herbert,  you'll  go  with  your  husband,  to 
morrow,  I'm  sure.  It  don't  take  you  long  to  get 
ready  for  any  movement ;  and  Helen,  I  think,  can 


THIRTY   BRIGHT   REASONS.  249 

give  you  some  new  reasons  in  favor  of  the 
joiirney,  which  you  have  not  yet  taken  into  con 
sideration." 

"  I  can't  imagine  what  they  can  be,  for  I  thought 
all  that  could  be  said  had  been  exhausted  long  ago. 
I  need  no  urging,  and  if  I  consulted  my  wishes 
only,  I  should  not  hesitate,  I  assure  you.  But  I 
honestly  feel  that  I  ought  not  to  go,  and  here's  my 
good  husband  (much  as  he  wishes  it)  dare  not  tell 
me  that  it  would  be  right  to  do  so." 

"  Well,  don't  be  too  sure.  If  Helen's  reasons 
don't  outweigh  yours,  I'll  give  it  up.  Good  night." 

"Well,  Helen,"  said  Mr.  Herbert,  as  Mr.  Francis 
closed  the  door,  "  what  are  the  wonderful  reasons  ? 
I  am  sure  I  shall  be  under  infinite  obligations  to 
your  friend,  if  they  are  such  as  Mary  will  think 
sufficient  to  justify  her  accompanying  me." 

"  They  are  not  so  wonderful  as  substantial," 
said  she,  handing  Mary  some  gold  pieces.  "  Here 
are  thirty  "bright  reasons  at  any  rate,  even  if 
they  do  not  prove  strong  ones,  and  the  offer  from 
Mr.  Francis  of  the  loan  of  a  fine  horse  and  buggy, 
if  you  will  go.  If  not,  you  can't  have  either  the 
money  or  the  conveyance.  What  have  you  to  say 
now?" 

11* 


250  FKOM  DAWN   TO  DAYLIGHT. 

"  Nothing,  but  to  thank  your  friend  most 
heartily.  My  only  objection  was  the  expense." 

"  What  a  husband  you  will  have,  cousin  Nell ! 
You  ought  to  be  proud  of  him.  I  hear  daily  of 
just  such  acts,  secretly  performed ;  but  these  deeds 
of  kindness  will  creep  out.  He  can't  conceal  them 
always." 

The  journey  was  deferred  one  day,  that  Mary 
need  not  be  hurried.  The  first  part  of  their  route 
took  them  across  the  same  road  they  had  passed 
when  they  came  to  Norton,  and  at  first  they  could 
not  but  think  sadly  of  the  many  changes,  since  that 
time.  But  the  freedom  from  care,  and  the  pleasure 
anticipated  in  meeting  once  more  the  dear  brother 
and  sister  to  whom  they  were  going,  soon  dispelled 
all  sadness,  and  they  both  entered  into  the  full 
enjoyment  of  the  ride,  with  the  enthusiastic  relish 
of  young  children. 

"  This  is  entirely  a  new  experience  for  us,  my 
dear  Mary,"  said  Mr.  Herbert.  "  It  makes  me  feel 
quite  boyish.  If  I  could  see  a  little  more  color  in 
those  pale  cheeks,  and  you'd  just  put  the  baby 
into  your  travelling-basket,  I  could  almost  imagine 
I  was  taking  that  first  ride,  in  the  early  days  of  our 
courtship,  over  the  dear  old  Massachusetts  hills." 


STALLED  COMPLETELY.  251 

"  You  will  have  to  shut  your  eyes  before  you  can 
well  imagine  anything  like  our  home  Mils  in  this 
flat,  boggy  region,  and  with  you  eyes  closed,  you 
can,  at  the  time,  forget  my  baby  and  pale  face,  and 
give  me  a  specimen  of  some  of  those  fine  speeches 
you  used  to  make.  I  should  quite  enjoy,  and  no 
doubt  be  better  able  to  appreciate  them,  than  in 
the  olden  times." 

"  Ah !  here  we  are  *  stalled '  completely.  I  must 
defer  my  complimentary  speeches,  and  request 
your  ladyship  to  alight,  while  I  search  for  rails 
to  pry  our  wheels  up  to  i  terra  firma'  once  more." 

A  peculiar  feature  in  western  travelling,  is  the 
deep  mud  or  "slew  holes,"  which  often  occasion 
teamsters  and  travellers  much  annoyance.  As  in 
the  present  instance,  the  road  gives  no  indication 
of  deeper  mud  in  one  spot  than  another,  when, 
without  any  apparent  change,  you  find  your  car 
riage  sinking  up  to  the  hubs  in  deep,  black  mud, 
as  adhesive  as  wax. 

After  many  ineffectual  attempts,  George  suc 
ceeded  in  raising  the  wheels  so  as  to  rest  them, 
somewhat,  on  the  rails  he  had  used  for  levers,  and 
Mary,  with  her  child  in  her  arms,  took  hold  of  the 
bridle,  to  encourage  Charley  to  make  one  grand 


252  FKOM  DAWN   TO  DAYLIGHT. 

effort,  while  his  master  tugged  at  the  wheel,  and 
bj  their  united  exertions,  succeeded  at  last  in 
gaining  mud  of  a  more  comfortable  depth. 

"  A  very  pleasant  little  episode,  by  way  of 
variety,"  said  Mr.  Herbert,  when  they  were  again 
under  way ;  "  but  I  shall  be  obliged  to  let  all  love- 
making  alone,  Mary,  dear,  till  we  are  through 
'  Black  Swamp,'  and  attend  more  carefully  to  my 
horse.  It  was  all  my  own  fault,  getting  into  diffi 
culty  this  time." 

"  I'm  sure  I  don't  see  how  you  make  that  out. 
I  saw  no  difference.  The  road  appears  all  mud, 
and  no  worse  at  that  point  than  anywhere  else." 

"  But  don't  you  perceive  that  the  tracks  all  pass 
round  that  particular  spot,  showing  it  to  be  a 
troublesome,  if  not  impassable  place  ?  I  have  had 
too  much  experience  in  such  things,  not  to  have 
known  better  than  to  have  been  caught  as  I  was. 
But  we  are  over  the  worst  of  our  journey;  and 
though  early  in  the  afternoon,  shall  be  obliged  to 
stop  at  the  next  hotel.  "We  cannot  reach  the 
second  till  too  late  for  safe  travelling  over  these 
roads.  I  am  sorry,  for  the  first  tavern  is  a  poor 
one." 

"  It  is  »>/)onlight,  and  I  have  no  fears,  with  you 


AN   IMPOSING  BUILDING.  253 

for  a  driver.  A  ride  after  sunset  will  be  delightful, 
I  tliink;  certainly  far  preferable  to  an  uncom 
fortable  resting-place  for  the  night." 

"Thank  you  for  your  confidence  in  my  skill; 
but  if  we  go  on,  we  shall  have  some  ten  miles 
after  dark,  without  passing  a  single  house ;  and  a 
break-down  would  be  rather  inconvenient,  or  a 
night  spent  in  a  bog-hole,  more  disagreeable  than  a 
dirty  house,  and  not  quite  as  safe  for  Master  Harry. 
See,  Charley  smells  his  oats,  and  yonder  is  the 
*  house  of  entertainment  for  man  and  beast.' " 

"  What,  that  large  two-story  new  house  ?  I 
have  not  seen  so  imposing  a  building  since  we  left 
home.  We  shall  surely  find  comfortable  quarters 
here,  and  you  have  been  slandering  it,  just  to  tease 
me.  At  your  old  tricks.  You  have  indeed  gone 
back  to  your  younger  days,"  said  Mary,  spor 
tively. 

"  We  shall  soon  see.  I  only  speak  from  report, 
having  never  tried  it  myself." 

They  were  shown  into  a  large  room,  with  two 
beds.  The  front  door  opened  at  once  into  it,  with 
out  any  hall,  or  entrance,  and  the  "  bar,"  in  a  re 
cessed  corner,  opposite  the  door,  was  the  most 
prominent  object  in  the  room. 


254:  FROM.  DAWN   TO   DAYLIGHT. 

Leaving  Mary  here,  Mr.  Herbert  went  to  see 
after  the  comfort  of  his  faithful  horse,  saying  he 
would  soon  return,  and  make  arrangements  for  a 
room,  where  she  could  wash  and  rest  awhile  before 
supper. 

Mrs.  Herbert  thought  she  had  had  some  know 
ledge  of  these  country  "  places  of  entertainment ;" 
but  for  dirt  and  discomfort,  this  was  far  beyond 
her  experience.  Several  vulgar,  profane  men  were 
at  the  bar,  some  smoking,  some  drinking,  and  all  of 
them  boisterous.  Three  or  four  forlorn-looking 
children  were  romping  about  the  room,  peering  in 
to  the  travellers'  faces,  and  asking  all  manner  of 
impertinent  questions.  That  could  have  been 
overlooked,  but  their  unkempt  hair,  torn  and 
filthy  garments,  and  faces  that  looked  as  though 
water  was  an  unknown  article,  were-  exceedingly 
disgusting  and  almost  intolerable. 

Several  other  travellers  had  alighted  from  the 
stage  just  as  our  friends  drove  up,  and  were  seated, 
quite  at  home,  on  beds,  chairs,  or  stools,  as  they 
fancied. 

"  "Well,  Mary,"  whispered  her  husband,  "  what 
do  you  think  of  this  c  imposing  house,'  thus  far  ?" 

"  Not  much,  if  this  is  the  best  of  it.     But  you 


UNPLEASANT   PKOSPECTS.  255 

/see  this  room  is  public  property.  Perhaps  we  shall 
find  our  apartments  more  prepossessing,  and  the 
table  may  prove  quite  tolerable  for  hungry  travel 
lers.  But  I  see  no  "  woman-kind  "  about  the  estab 
lishment.  That  sad,  ghost-like  looking  Mr.  Allison, 
is,  apparently,  host,  hostess,  and  all." 

Mr.  Herbert  left  her  to  inquire  about  a  room, 
but  soon  returned,'  with  a  comical  expression  which 
contrasted  rather  suspiciously  with  his  words. 

"You  are  partly  right,  my  dear.  Our  apart 
ments  are  rather  imposing ;  but  we  will,  defer  a 
visit  to  them  till  after  supper,  which  is  nearly 
ready." 

"  But,  George,  I  want  to  wash  and  put  myself 
and  baby  a  little  to  rights,  before  trying  to  eat. 
Can't  I  see  the  landlady  ?" 

"  Oh !  you  and  Harry  are  as  clean  as  you  will 
be  after  washing,  I  assure  you,  and  quite  as  likely  to 
relish  your  supper  now,  as  after  you  have  been  to 
your  room.  As  for  the  landlady,  she  is  c  snoring 
drunk '  in  that  little  room  off  there.  No  wonder 
Mr.  Allison  looks  disheartened  and  wretched.  It 
is  said  he  is  a  £  right  clever  fellow,'  and  would  do 
well  if  his  wife  did  not  paralyze  all  his  efforts  oy  her 
outrageous  habits.  A  little  one,  not  older  than 


256  FEOM  DAWN   TO   DAYLIGHT. 

ours,  lies  in  a  cradle  by  her  side,  a  most  loath 
some  and  forlorn  object." 

Supper  was  announced,  and  they  followed  into 
a  long,  cold,  cheerless  apartment,  unutterably 
dirty,  where  the  table  was  spread.  A  cloth,  ragged 
and  unwashed,  covered  the  rough  boards  that  had 
been  nailed  together  by  no  skillful  hand,  and  dig 
nified  with  the  name  of  table ;  and  the  food — could 
any  degree  of  hunger  make  that  palatable?  It 
might  be,  but  Mrs.  Herbert  had  riot  yet  reached 
the  proper  stage  of  starvation. 

"Shut  your  eyes  and  open  your  mouth,  and 
make  an  effort,  my  dear,"  whispered  her  hus 
band. 

Meats  of  various  kinds  were  passed,  but  some 
foreign  ingredient  in  each  compelled  Mary  to  de 
cline,  however  reluctant  to  distress  the  poor  land 
lord  by  so  doing.  Some  biscuit  which  could  only 
be  compared  to  balls  of  dried  putty — honey,  black 
as  tar,  garnished  with  the  wings  and  bodies  of  the 
industrious  little  manufacturers — and  the  butter, 
how  could  she  venture  upon  that  ? 

"  A  cup  of  tea,  if  you  please." 

It  was  brought,  and  the  milk-pitcher  and  black 
maple  sugar  placed  before  her.  The  sugar  she 


THE   SUPPER.  257 

declined,  but  poured  some  milk  into  her  tea.  The 
instant  it  touched  the  hot  liquid,  it  rose  in  a  thick 
curd  to  the  top  ! 

Mr.  Herbert,  meanwhile,  who  sat  by  her  side, 
pretended  to  be  busy  with  the  preparation  of  his 
own  food ;  but  was  in  reality  roguishly  enjoying 
the  increasing  hopeless  expression  of  his  wife's 
face.  At  last  he  said  : 

"  Take  a  boiled  egg,  Mary,  no  dirt  can  find  its 
way  inside  of  that;  and  really  this  ham  looks  quite 
inviting.  Come,  try  it,  dear,  ./never  saw  the  food 
vet,  that  I  could  not  manage  to  eat  of,  and  you 
will  be  obliged  to  learn  the  same  lesson,  if  you 
travel  much  in  this  country,  I  assure  you." 

The  ham  she  declined,  perceiving,  at  the  moment, 
an  appendage  to  the  piece  on  her  husband's  plate, 
which  effectually  destroyed  all  desire  for  it,  and, 
by  which  she  intended,  by  and  by,  to  turn  the 
laugh  against  him.  She  took  the  egg,  and  break 
ing  it,  found  it  contained  more  than  she  expected 
and  laid  it  quietly  aside.  Her  husband  could 
hardly  refrain  from  laughing.  This  little  "  aside  " 
occupied  but  a  moment.  To  hide  his  merriment, 
he  took  up  his  knife  and  fork,  and  cut  a  piece  of 
bam  with  a  most  resolute  air,  found  he  had,  at  the 


258  FROM   DAWN  TO   DAYLIGHT. 

same  time,  dissected  a  nicely-fried  cockroach !  A 
glance  at  Mary's  face  upset  his  gravity  (his  appe 
tite  had  gone  before),  and  rising  hastily,  he  made 
some  excuse  about  caring  for  his  horse,  and  Mary 
rose  a  moment  after  to  attend  to  her  T)dby.  But 
Mr.  Herbert  will  be  careful  how  he  tells  his  wife 
again,  that  he  never  saw  the  table  where  he  could 
not  glean  a  meal ! 

When  he  returned,  Mary  was  beginning  to  feel 
uneasy  at  his  long  tarry,  but  he  informed  her,  that 
Charley  had,  against  his  express  orders,  been  most 
improperly  fed,  and  was  very  sick.  The  landlord 
and  himself  had  been  doing  all  that  could  be  done, 
till  morning,  and  he  added  : 

"  As  the  stage  passed  here  two  hours  ago,  and 
there  is  no  other  till  day  after  to-morrow,  we  have 
the  very  delightful  prospect  of  tarrying  for  at  least 
two  days,  should  the  horse  remain  ill." 

"  But  'tis  getting  late,  and  we  may  as  well  retire 
to  the  c  imposing  apartment,'  here  provided." 

Imposing  indeed !  The  whole  of  the  upper 
story  was  before  them,  without  a  partition,  and 
containing  four  exceedingly  uninviting  beds,  one 
of  them,  to  Mary's  confusion,  being  occupied  by 
two  snoring  Dutchmen,  and  the  one  nearest  her 


WILD   BEASTS  ABKOAD.  259 

own,  by  a  woman  and  three  children,  the  youngest 
using  his  lungs  right  lustily. 

Mary  told  her  husband  he  might  venture  to  try 
the  bed  if  he  chose,  but  she  was  afraid  of  being 
devoured  alive,  or  something  worse,  if  she  tried  to 
rest  on  such  vile-looking  affairs.  Mr.  Herbert 
determined  to  risk  the  trial ;  and  taking  a  clean 
towel  from  her  travelling-basket,  his  wife  pinned  it 
around  the  brown  and  stained  pillow,  and  spread 
the  buffalo  robe  on  the  floor  for  her  babe,  covering 
him  with  her  shawl.  Then  drawing  a  chair  near 
the  baby,  she  seated  herself  with  her  feet  on 
the  rounds,  and  her  dress  carefully  gathered  off 
from  the  floor,  preferring  to  pass  the  night  as  a 
watcher. 

It  was  but  a  short  time  after  all  the  arrange 
ments  had  been  made,  when  both  father  and  child, 
who,  from  fatigue,  had  quickly  fallen  asleep,  be 
came  very  restless ;  she  lighted  a  bit  of  candle, 
to  ascertain  the  cause.  Oh  horrors ! — the  wild 
beasts  were  abroad  !  The  poor  babe  was  in  a  sad 
condition,  and  on  going  to  her  husband's  bedside, 
she  saw  a  long,  black  procession,  slowly  moving 
from  his  arm,  across  his  breast,  and  up  the  sides  of 
his  face. 


260  FROM   DAWN   TO   DAYLIGHT. 

"  "Wake  up !  wake  up,  George,  or  there  will  be 
nothing  of  you  or  the  boy  left  by  morning." 

"Well,  this  is  a  little  more  than  ever  I  can  en 
dure.  If  Charley  can  stand,  only  on  three  legs,  I 
will  not  wait  for  daylight.  I  think  we  can't  be 
more  uncomfortable  should  we  land  in  a  mud-hole 
between  here  and  Anderson's  (the  next  tavern). 
So  make  yourself  and  that  little  martyr  as  comfort 
able  as  you  can,  while  I  go  and  take  counsel  of  the 
horse. 

In  a  very  short  time  Mary  heard  Charley's  step 
at  the  door,  and  needed  no  urging  to  hasten  out. 

The  poor  landlord  was  with  Mr.  Herbert.  "I 
am  very  sorry  you  found  such  uncomfortable  quar 
ters  ;  but,  indeed,  what  can  a  poor  man  do  ?"  said 
he,  sighing. 

It  was  sad,  and  they  really  wished,  for  his  sake, 
they  could  have  endured  till  morning.  But,  saying 
a  few  kind,  comforting  words  to  him,  they  rode 
away. 

It  was  about  three  in  the  morning  when  they 
started,  and  for  the  first  two  hours  they  were 
obliged  to  move  with  great  caution,  both  for  want 
of  light,  and  also  because  Charley  was  in  no  mood 
for  fast  labor.  But  as  daylight  slowly  dawned 


DON'T  JUDGE  BY  APPEARANCES.  263 

around  them,  and  their  path  became  less  ob 
scure,  even  the  horse,  gathering  courage,  stepped 
briskly  forward,  and  it  was  not  long  before  they 
reached  the  next  "  bit  of  clearing."  The  "  house  " 
was  but  a  one-story  log  cabin,  and  Mary  thought 
the  prospects  not  much  brighter  than  before,  judg 
ing  from  the  exterior. 

"Don't  judge  by  appearances,  my  dear.  The 
two-story  house  that  excited  your  admiration  when 
we  first  came  in  sight  of  it,  did  not  serve  us  any 
too  well ;  but  I  suspect,  from  what  I  have  been 
told,  that  this  will  prove  quite  a  godsend." 

A  surprise  awaited  them  at  the  very  door.  On 
each  side  of  the  clean,  wooden  steps,  was  a  little 
bed  of  marigolds,  pansies,  and  pinks.  Morning- 
glories  and  creepers  shaded  the  windows,  and  a 
climbing  rose  formed  a  beautiful  ornament  for  the 
rough  log  "  stoop." 

This  simple  evidence  of  a  love  for  flowers  won 
Mr.  Herbert's  heart. 

"  I  know  that  we  shall  find  something  to  eat  that 
will  be  at  least  clean  at  this  house,"  he  said,  "  for 
no  one  that  loves  flowers  can  be  a  slattern." 

The  stout,  tidy,  motherly  Dutch  woman,  who 
met  them  as  they  entered,  smiled  kindly  when 


262  FROM   DAWN   TO   DAYLIGHT. 

she  heard  the  remark,  and  stepping  to  an  adjoin 
ing  shed,  she  requested  her  husband  to  aid  her  in 
hastening  the  breakfast  for  their  weary  guests.  As 
she  returned  to  the  pleasant  room,  she  said:  "  John 
and  I  don't  keep  c  help,'  we  love  so  much  better  to 
work  together.  He'll  see  to  your  horse  presently, 
if  you  will  be  so  good  as  to  hitch  him,  till  he  has 
brought  me  some  wood  and  water." 

And  truly  it  was  a  pleasant  sight  for  our  friends, 
to  watch  the  loving  old  couple  as  they  passed  and 
repassed  each  other,  and  always  with  a  smile,  or 
pleasant  word. 

"  What  do  you  think  my  wife  has  been  saying, 
my  good  dame  ?"  said  Mr.  Herbert  in  his  sportive 
way,  while  she  was  arranging  the  table.  "  She  is 
wondering  if  we  shall  be  as  happy  and  fond  of  each 
other,  as  you  and  your  husband  seem  to  be,  when 
we  are  as  old.  I  tell  her  it  will  depend  upon 
herself.  If  she  is  as  gentle  and  good-natured  as 
you  are,  I  can't  well  fail  of  making  a  good  hus 
band.  Is  is  not  so  ?" 

"  Oh,  no ;  I  cannot  agree  with  you,  sir.  If  it 
had  all  depended  on  me,  we  should  have  been  a 
very  unhappy  couple  now,  I  dare  say.  I  was  very 
affectionate  naturally,  but  irritable;  and  in  the 


GOD  BLESS   HIM.  263 

early  part  of  our  life,  while  my  children  were  com 
ing  up  around  us,  I  had  a  great  deal  of  hard  work, 
and  much  pain  and  ill  health,  which  did  not  make 
me  gentle.  But  John  always  said,  so  long  as  he 
hadn't  the  pain  and  weakness  to  bear,  no  matter 
how  hard  he  worked,  he  ought  to  be  patient  and 
kind  with  me,  and  I  have  never  had  a  hard  word 
from  him  yet,  God  bless  him,  though  I'm  'shamed 
to  say,  I've  given  him  a  good  many.  He's 
always  been  ready  to  excuse  my  short-comings, 
and  some  of  the  time  they  have  not  been  easy  to 
bear,  I*  assure  you.  I  used  to  grieve  over  it,  and 
think  he'd  get  tired  out  with  me,  and  not  always 
be  able  to  realize  that  it  was  labor  and  pain,  and 
not  my  heart  that  made  me  ugly,  and  sometimes  I 
longed  to  die.  But  he  bore  on,  and  now  he  has 
his  reward,  for  a  happier  couple  never  did  live,  I 
know.  My  health,  as  my  children  grew  up,  im 
proved,  and  I  don't  see  now,  but  I  am  as  good- 
natured  as  other  people. 

"  !Nb,  no,  you  must  allow  me  to  differ  from  you, 
sir.  I  think  my  John  is  right.  Men  can  have  no 
idea  of  what  a  woman's  feebleness  and  sufferings 
may  be — the  hundred  weary  days  and  nights  of 
irritating  pains,  which  take  the  courage  and  gentle- 


264:  FKOM  DAWN   TO   DAYLIGHT. 

ness  all  out  of  one;  and  unless  they  are  certain 
they  could  be  more  patient  under  the  rod  than 
their  poor  wives,  they'd  better  in  early  married 
life  be  loving  and  gentle,  and  then  they'll  be  sure 
of  a  peaceful  old  age.  If  John  had  judged  me 
harshly  then,  I  should  have  been  ruined  body  and 
soul,  and  he  would  be  wretched  now. 

"Well,  now  I've  talked  till  I  have  kept  your 
breakfast  back;  but  I  never  know  when  to  stop 
when  I  begin  to  speak  of  John." 

"  I'm  sure  I  am  very  much  obliged  to  you,"  said 
Mary,  smiling,  "  and  my  husband  looks  as  if  he 
could  not  gainsay  your  remarks." 

A  broiled  chicken  and  some  hot  venison  steaks, 
were  now  smoking  on  the  table,  and  added  to  these, 
some  fine  fresh  tomatoes,  potatoes,  white  as  snow 
balls,  sweet  bread,  yellow  butter,  a  dish  of  berries, 
with  a  pitcher  of  rich  milk  beside  them ;  and,  Mr. 
Herbert  said,  the  best  coffee  he  had  ever  tasted  in 
a  public-house ! 

The  kind  old  man  begged  the  privilege  of 
holding  the  baby,  while  his  wife  waited  on  their 
guests. 

"  And  surely,"  said  Mary,  "  food  never  did 
taste  half  so  good  before.  It  is  worth  one's  while 


A    GENUINE   LOVE    MATCH.  265 

to  fast  for  a  few  hours,  for  the  sake  of  such  an 
appetite." 

"While  partaking  of  their  carefully  prepared 
breakfast,  they  enjoyed  a  good  deal  of  pleasant  con 
versation  with  their  host  and  his  wife,  and  learned 
much  of  their  earlier  life,  which  interested  them 
exceedingly,  and  the  old  couple  appeared  also 
much  pleased  with  their  society. 

They  belonged,  it  seemed,  to  a  good  family  in 
Germany,  and  had  received  advantages  far  above 
what  their  present  position  would  indicate. 

It  was  a  genuine  love-match,  with  the  usual 
amount  of  opposition,  and  producing  the  usual 
results.  That  is,  it  confirmed  their  love,  and 
strengthened  their  determination  to  be  united,  at 
all  hazards.  They  were  married,  and  to  escape 
strife  and  bitter  words  from  his  friends,  who  had 
wished  him  to  choose  a  bride  from  a  higher  station, 
they  left  home  and  native  land,  and  with  a  scanty 
pittance  came  to  the  new  world,  where,  by  hard 
labor  and  close  calculation,  they  worked  their  way 
up  to  a  pleasant  competence,  educated  six  sons  and 
daughters,  had  seen  them  all  well  settled  in  life,  and 
were  now  peacefully,  hand  in  hand,  going  down  into 
the  vale  together,  their  youthful  love  brightened 

12 


266  FKOM   DAWN  TO   DAYLIGHT. 

and  strengthened  by  toiling  and  suffering  with,  and 
for  each  other. 

They  could,  if  they  had  chosen,  have  built  them 
selves  a  handsome  home — but  with  the  romance 
which  is  generally  supposed  to  be  the  exclusive 
property  of  youth — the  neat  log  cabin  which  their 
own  hands  had  helped  to  build — beautified  with  the 
vines  which,  for  years,  they  had  together  taught  to 
twine  about  it,  the  thrifty  shrubs  and  trees,  each 
planted  to  mark  the  birth  of  a  loved  child,  or  com 
memorate  some  joy  or  sorrow  shared  together — 
and  all  the  little  conveniences  which  thoughtful 
affection  had  invented,  or  supplied,  were  dearer  to 
tltose  old  lovers  than  the  most  splendid  edifice  in 
the  land. 

Our  travellers  had  become  deeply  interested 
in  the  narrative  which  the  old  people  had  given, 
aad  felt  reluctant  to  leave;  and  the  interest 
seemed  equally  shared  by  their  new  friends, 
who  urged  them  to  spend  the  day,  and  rest. 
But  George  was  to  preach  for  his  brother  that 
evening,  and  it  was  full  time  they  were  on  their 
way. 

Their  horse  had  been  well  cared  for,  and  appa 
rently  entirely  recovered,  the  guests  most  happily 


A   GENEROUS   COUPLE.  267 

refreshed,  and  with  many  kind  words  and  hearty 
thanks  (for  these  good  people  would  take  no  other 
remuneration,  when  they  learned  that  Mr.  Herbert 
was  a  clergyman),  they  bade  them  farewell,  and 
were  once  more  on  their  way. 


CHAPTEE  XYL 

THE  VISIT  AND  KETUKN. 

THEY  found  tlieir  brother  and  his  wife  in  a 
commodious  house,  delightfully  located,  and  sur 
rounded  with  all  the  comforts  and  luxuries  of 
wealth. 

Sister  Kate  had  lost  her  first  child — a  beautiful 
girl,  about  the  ago  of  little  Susie— but  she  had  a 
baby  George  to  show,  a  fine  little  fellow  of  two 
years. 

The  first  evening,  they  returned  from  the  church 
at  an  early  hour,  being  greatly  fatigued ;  but  when 
seated  once  more  with  those  dear  ones,  there  was 
so  much  to  enjoy,  so  many  things  to  recall  and 
talk  over,  that  they  forgot  entirely  the  last  restless 
night,  and  were  in  danger  of  being  sleepless  from 
pleasure,  as  they  had  then  been  from  discomfort. 

"  Do  you  remember  that  visit  to  Oakley,  Sister 
Mary,  when  you  came  to  arrange  for  your  first 

263 


.AN  EVENING  CHAT.  269 

attempt  at  housekeeping  ?  And,  do  you  know,  I 
thought  you  must  be  entirely  ignorant  of  money 
matters,  or  household  expenses,  when  you  were  so 
sure  you  could  contrive  a  .comfortable  home  for 
this  good  brother  with  such  materials  as  you  were 
able  to  collect  ?  I  felt  sad  when  we  parted  from 
you  that  morning  at  the  wharf;  for  I  was  so  sure 
you  would  find  your  plans  a  failure." 

"  Yery  likely,  I  should,  had  it  not  been  for  the 
kindness  of  friends ;  and  if  I  had  had  also  the  benefit 
of  my  present  experience,  the  prospect  would  have 
been  a  dark  one,  indeed.  "We  have  seen  harder 
times  than  those,  however,  when  closer  economy 
was  necessary ;  and  yet,  somehow,  we  have  never 
been  so  closely  hedged  in,  but  there  has  been 
some  way  of  escape  provided,  and  often  when  our 
courage  has  been  well-nigh  exhausted ;  and  I  pre 
sume,  we  shall  continue  to  find  it  so." 

"Well,"  said  Frank,  "riches  can  never  make  a 
pleasanter  home  than  those  two  rooms  in  Glenville, 
and  we  shall  never  spend  happier  weeks  than  we 
spent  there,  I'm  sure." 

"  I  often  envy  you,"  said  Kate,  "  the  pleasure  of 
being  compelled  to  manage  and  contrive  all  possible 
ways  to  get  along.  Still  more,  the  ability  to  do  so, 


270  FEOM  DAWN   TO  DAYLIGHT.  , 

and  yet  keep  a  bright  home  for  your  husband, 
under  every  discouragement.  I  wonder  if  I  could 
do  it.  I  think  I  should  like  to  try." 

"  It  does  very  well  to  dream  over  and  long  for, 
when  seated  as  we  are  now,  with  everything  com 
fortable  and  elegant  about  us,"  said  George  ;  "  but 
my  poor  wife's  faded  roses,  and  the  silver  in  her 
curls,  after  only  six  years  of  such  contrivance, 
show  you  that  there  is  something  more  serious  than 
romance  about  it." 

"  True,  and  these  late  hours  won't  recall  the 
roses." 

"  Ah !  now.  Let  me  tell  you,"  replied  Mary, 
"  'tis  not  short  pay  or  hard  work  that  have 
blanched  my  cheeks  or  silvered  my  hair,  but  those 
abominable  chills  you  force  upon  the  stranger 
within  your  gates  in  this  western  world.  I'm  cer 
tain  I  could  work  as  hard  as  I  have  done,  and  cal 
culate  as  closely,  and  contrive  as  ingeniously,  and 
yet  be  quite  a  young  lady,  when  fifty  years  old,  if 
our  field  of  labor  was  in  a  more  healthy  location. 
It  is  this  shaking  business  that  destroys  the  wives 
and  mothers." 

An  exceedingly  happy  week  passed  by.  The 
labors  and  preaching  of  the  two  clergymen  were 


HOMEWAKD.  271 

greatly  blessed  to  the  people,  and  endeared  the 
brothers  and  sisters,  still  more  closely,  to  each 
other.  After  their  return  from  the  nightly  meet 
ings,  they  would  sit  conversing  till  the  small  hours, 
feeling  that  the  pleasure  of  such  intercourse  was 
worth  more  to  them  than  sleep. 

But,  pleasantly  as  passed  the  hours,  the  mother, 
at  the  end  of  two  weeks,  began  to  long  for  her 
children.  She  well  knew  that  Susie's  loving  heart 
was  counting  the  hours  passed  away  from  her 
parents,  and  little  prattling  Frank  would  long  for 
his  father's  good-night  frolic,  and  his  mother  to 
prepare  him  for  his  crib ;  and  so,  with  the  promise 
of  an  early  visit  from  their  brother  and  sister, 
they  separated. 

In  returning,  they  took  another  and  more  pleas 
ant  route  home,  and  found  very  comfortable 
accommodations  on  the  way,  but  none  that  had 
the  charm  for  them  of  that  one-story  log  tavern, 
with  its  simple-hearted,  loving  occupants. 

"When  they  reached  home,  little  quiet  Susie 
sprang  into  their  arms,  and  wept  and  sobbed  till 
her  parents  were  alarmed  for  the  effects  of  such 
nervous  excitement;  while  Master  Frank  jumped 
and  laughed  in  true  boy's  style,  and  wondered 


272  FROM     DAWN   TO   DAYLIGHT. 

why  sister  cried  when  pa  and  ma  came  home. 
Cousin  Helen,  also,  was  quite  willing  to  resign  her 
honors,  saying  she  found  it  much  easier  to  be 
taught,  than  to  practise  what  she  had  learned. 

Mr.  Francis  called  in  the  evening,  and  received 
the  hearty  thanks  of  both  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Herbert, 
for  the  pleasure  of  their  journey;  the  latter  saying 
she  felt  almost  as  strong  as  before  her  illness,  and 
sure  that  nothing  but  her  release  from  care,  and 
the  delightful  visit  to  their  friends,  could  have  done 
her  half  so  much  good. 

"  Then,  I  presume,"  said  Mr.  Francis,  with  a 
smile,  "you  will  no  longer  need  Helen,  and  are 
quite  prepared  to  commit  her  to  my  keeping  ?" 

"  That's  wicked  and  unkind  !  to  use  our  thanks 
for  your  generosity  as  weapons  against  us.  I  think 
it  no  more  than  fair,  after  that,  to  keep  her  another 
year.  It  will  seem  too  much  like  a  ~bargain>  now, 
sir.  My  wife's  journey  for  our  cousin  Nellie.  I 
wouldn't  have  a  word  to  say  to  such  a  mercenary 
man,  Nellie !" 

"  Ah  1  I  am  beforehand  with  you.  I  have  her  pro 
mise,  that  if  Mrs.  Herbert  returned  quite  recruited, 
she  would  not  refuse  to  take  charge  of  me  very  soon. 
You  need  not  have  expended  such  an  amount  of 


AN   ODD   GENIUS.  273 

gratitude  for  the  trifling  service  I  rendered  you. 
Don't  you  see,  it  was  all. sheer  selfishness  ?" 

"  No  such  thing,"  said  Mary  ;  "  you  can  never 
make  us  believe  your  slanders  on  yourself,  Mr. 
Francis.  It  is  just  like  you,  to  try  and  make 
people  imagine  you  worse  than  you  really  are." 

"  You  think  that's  bad  enough,  without  any 
effort  to  increase  the  dark  shades.  Do  you  not  ?" 

"  You  are  an  odd  genius,  Francis.  I've  known 
you  take  more  pains  to  impress  people  with  the 
idea  that  you  are  mean  and  selfish,  than  most 
persons  would  to  secure  the  reputation  of  saint 
ship.  But  you  can't  fool  my  wife  or  me.  I  under 
stand  you  well.  If  I  had  not,  you  should  never 
have  secured  a  claim  on  our  blushing  cousin  here. 
~N~ellie,  you  have  your  life's  work  before  you,  to 
keep  this  man  in  anything  like  order." 

"  To  be  sure  she  has ;  and,  therefore,  the  sooner 
she  begins,  the  more  perfectly  will  her  work  be 
accomplished." 

"You  have  the  advantage  of  us  again,  and 
therefore  we  shall  be  obliged  to  leave  Nellie  to 
settle  the  question  in  accordance  with  her  own 
judgment." 

It  was  decided  that  the  wedding  should  take 
12* 


274  FKOM  DAWN   TO   DAYLIGHT. 

place  at  the  end  of  the  month.  Mr.  Francis  had 
built  and  furnished  a  pleasant  house,  within  a  few 
steps  of  the  parsonage,  and  Helen  would  hardly 
feel  that  they  were  not  still  one  family. 

Some  weeks  after  the  wedding,  Mrs.  Herbert 
told  her  husband  that  there  seemed  no  way  of 
getting  through  the  year,  but  by  taking  boarders 
again ;  unless  he  thought  it  right  to  make  a  plain 
statement  of  their  case  to  their  principal  men,  and 
leave  it  with  them  to  decide  which  was  most  for 
their  interest,  to  pay  at  least  the  amount  promised, 
or  relinquish  him  to  some  church  who  would  con 
sider  him  worthy  of  a  comfortable  support.  There 
were,  already,  she  added,  three  hundred  dollars 
due  from  their  last  year's  salary,  of  which  they 
had  not  been  able  to  collect  a  penny,  beside  that 
which  was  unpaid  on  the  present  year. 

"  Just  about  as  much  due  at  the  end  of  the  year, 
as  we  gained  by  that  donation  party.  How  it 
would  have  grieved  our  dear  Mrs.  Jackson  and 
Mrs.  Tompkins,  had  they  lived  to  see  that  their 
loving  efforts,  instead  of  shaming  our  business 
men  into  a  more  honorable  course,  has  acted  as  an 
opiate  to  their  consciences,  and  we  have  been  more 
sorely  pinched  than  ever  before/' 


WHAT   SHALL   WE   DO?  275 

"  Well,  dear,  what  shall  we  do  ?  "We  have 
trusted  their  promises  long  enough — lived  on  the 
hope  of  'better  times  J  till  we  can  live  so  no  longer. 
Our  garden  and  cow  are  indeed  great  helps  to  us, 
as  far  as  food  is  concerned ;  but  the  general  ward 
robe  needs  replenishing  sadly,  and  additions  to 
yours  cannot  be  any  longer  deferred.  I  have 
mended  your  coat  and  vest,  till  it  will  hardly  hold 
the  stitches,  and  breaks  out  by  each  day's  wear,  so 
that  I  am  compelled  to  sit  up  and  mend  at  night, 
after  you  retire.  Last  Sabbath,  you  know  (after  I 
had  mended  Saturday  night  as  near  to  twelve  as  I 
dared),  you  burst  out  the  sleeves,  just  writing  your 
sermon,  and  I  was  obliged  to  take  my  needle  and 
mend  till  the  last  bell  rang.  I  had  a  great  mind 
to  send  you  to  preach  without  a  coat." 

"  I  think  it  might  have  been  a  good  plan,"  said 
her  husband,  smiling.  "  I  would  have  said,  on 
entering  the  pulpit,  <  The  brethren  and  sisters 
must  excuse  my  unclerical  appearance,  but  my 
only  coat  would  not  hold  fast  its  integrity  until 
after  preaching,  and  my  wife's  conscience  will  not 
allow  her  to  mend  it  on  the  Sabbath.  My  people 
will  not  pay  me  for  my  labor,  and  I  cannot,  there 
fore,  buy  a  new  one.'  Don't  you  believe  such  a 


276  FEOM   DAWN   TO   DAYLIGHT. 

speech  would  rouse  them  to  a  sense  of  their  short 
comings  ?" 

"  Doubtful.  I  told  Brother  Hudson  (who 
boarded  with  us,  you  know,  when  we  first  came 
here)  about  my  being  obliged  to  mend  your  coat, 
before  you  could  go  to  church,  a  few  weeks  since, 
and  would  you  believe  it,  he  was  fired  with  righte 
ous  indignation  at  my  presumption  in  thus  dese 
crating  the  Sabbath. 

"  c  "Why,'  said  I,  c  you  would  not  have  your  pas 
tor  preach  with  a  coat-sleeve  hanging  only  by  a 
seam,  would  you  ?' 

"  'Couldn't  he  put  on  his  second-best  coat,  just 
for  once,  rather  than  have  you  sewing  on  the  holy 
Sabbath?' 

"  '  Certainly,  sir,  if  he  had  a  second-best,  a  con 
venience  (or  luxury  perhaps  you  would  call  it), 
which  he  has  not  been  able  to  afford  for  years.' 3: 

"That  was  rather  a  poser,  was  it  not?" 

u  Only  for  a  moment,  for  he  soon  replied : 

"  '  "Well,  I  must  say,  Mrs.  Herbert,  if  you  would 
economize  more  closely  (!  !)  you  might  manage  to 
keep  our  minister  more  respectably  clad.' 

"  c  As  for  instance ' —  said  I. 

«  <  Well— well,— Oh,  many  things.' 


ADVICE  AND   CENSUKE.  277 

"'Too  vague  altogether,  Mr.  Hudson.  You 
must  particularize  if  you  wish  me  to  profit  by  your 
remarks.' 

" '  Well,  your  table.  I  remember  I  used  to 
think,  when  in  your  family,  that  you  lived  far 
more  expensively  than  was  necessary — pies  or 
puddings  every  day,  etc.' 

a  t  "\yhy  didn't  you  suggest  this  while  with  us  f 
If  my  memory  does  not  fail  me,  you  seldom 
objected  to  my  replenishing  your  plate  the  second 
time,  and  of  course  I  took  that  as  a  sign  of  your 
approval.' 

"Just  then  he  remembered  a  business  engage 
ment,  and  was  obliged  to  leave  suddenly.  I  expect 
you  will  lecture  me  for  speaking  so  plainly,  but 
how  could  I  help  it?" 

"E"ot  very  easily,  my  dear;  and  you  may  be 
sure  I  shall  not  trouble  you  with  a  lecture.  I 
imagine  he  only  got  his  deserts. 

"  But  what  to  do  about  our  affairs  I  don't  know. 
I  have  little  hope  that  they  will  improve  while  we 
stay  here.  Our  people,  I  think,  feel  that,  should  it 
come  to  the  trial,  we  could  not  find  it  in  our  hearts 
to  leave  them ;  and,  as  we  have  managed  to  keep 
along  thus  far,  they  think  we  always  can.  I  can't  en 


278  FEOM   DAWN  TO   DAYLIGHT. 

dure  the  thought  of  leaving,  but  I  fear  it  must 
come  to  that." 

"  It  seems  so  unaccountable  that  a  church  should 
ever  be  inclined  to  grudge  a  minister  a  tolerable 
support.  Their  health  or  pockets  would  suffer  if 
the  lawyer  or  physician  were  treated  as  carelessly, 
but  their  free  and  easy  habits  have  not  taught  them 
to  place  any  great  value  on  the  services  of  one  who 
labors  for  their  souls'  well  being." 

"  I  would  go  to  Mr.  Francis  for  advice,  but  that 
would  be  just  the  same  as  asking  him  to  put  his 
hand  into  his  purse  and  give  me  a  bank  bill." 

"  Oh,  no ;  it  will  not  do  to  go  to  him.  But  why 
not  have  a  long,  plain  talk  with  Father  Tompkins  2" 

"Is  it  possible  I  did  not  tell  you  that  he  was 
struck  with  paralysis  last  night,  and  is  helpless  and 
speechless  to-day?  How  could  I  be  so  forgetful !" 

"  Dear  old  man  !  The  cords  that  bind  us  here 
are  dropping  asunder,  one  by  one.  Perhaps  it  is 
the  only  way  to  decide  us  to  leave.  But  the 
sweetness  of  their  memory  will  ever  make  the 
place  dear.  "We  had  better  lay  aside  our  own 
affairs,  and  go  over  and  see  if  we  can  be  of  any 
service  to  him,  or  his  family." 

Mr.    Tompkins   lived  only   a  few  days,  uncon 


DEATH   OF  ME.   TOMPKINS.  279 

Bcious  all  the  time,  and  then  passed  from  earth 
to  join  his  companion  in  heaven.  He  had  been 
steadily  failing  from  the  day  of  her  death,  but 
never  was  a  man  better  prepared  for  a  change 
of  worlds.  He  had  long  before  put  his  house  in 
order,  and  lived  as  if  he  felt  each  day  might  be  his 
last. 

The  two  eldest  daughters  had  married  since  their 
mother's  death.  The  sons  had  commenced  busi 
ness  in  a  neighboring  town,  and  now  the  youngest 
daughter  went  to  find  a  home  with  her  sisters,  and 
our  friends'  connection  with  this  family  was 
entirely  broken  up. 

But  now  the  pastor's  private  affairs  would  no 
longer  admit  of  delay.  The  crisis  had  come,  but 
how  to  meet  it  in  the  kindest  spirit,  and  with  the 
requisite  firmness,  was  the  question. 

Mr.  Jackson,  since  his  wife's  death,  had  been 
considerably  disturbed,  and  embarrassed  in  his 
own  business  matters,  and  it  was  thought  doubtful 
if  his  mind  could  be  brought  to  look  into  the  sub 
ject  under  consideration,  so  clearly,  as  to  make  it 
advisable  for  him  to  attempt  any  change,  for  them, 
either  by  private  conversation,  or  .a  more  formal 
presentation  of  their  case  to  the  people.  Mr.  Her- 


280  FROM   DAWN   TO   DAYLIGHT. 

bert,  therefore,  decided  to  assume  the  respon 
sibility  of  calling  his  principal  business  men  to 
gether,  and  plainly  show  them  the  true  state  of  his 
finances,  and  insist  upon  a  reformation,  or  dis 
missal  from  his  charge.  But  just  before  the  even 
ing  appointed  for  this  painful  task,  he  received  a 
letter  from  Mobile,  inviting  him  to  take  charge  of 
a  church  in  that  city,  and  offering  him  a  very 
liberal  salary,  beside  paying  his  debts  (if  he  had 
any)  and  defraying  the  expenses  of  removing  his 
family  to  the  place. 

"  This  is  bringing  matters  to  a  crisis,  suddenly," 
said  he,  after  reading  the  letter. 

"  Why,  George,  you  haven't  decided  to  go  ?" 
"No,  indeed.  I  shall  say  nothing  of  it,  till  I 
have  carefully  thought  over  the  whole  ground,  on 
both  sides.  My  present  feeling,  however,  is,  that 
it  will  be  best  to  lay  this  letter  before  our  people, 
as  a  l>ody^  and  if  they  really  wish  me  to  remain, 
tell  them  a  prompt  and  decent  support  are  the  only 
conditions  on  which  I  can  stay.  If  they  rouse  up 
and  act  effectively,  I  think  I  can  do  more  good 
here  than  in  Mobile.  But  if,  as  I  have  of  late 
more  than  once  thought,  they  have  withheld  our 
support,  hoping  I  should  ask  a  dismission,  the 


A  PLAIN   STATEMENT.  281 

way  they  receive  this  letter  will  settle  the  doubt 
beyond  a  question." 

"  Why,  my  dear  husband,  you  can't  be  serious  in 
supposing  there  is  any  dissatisfaction  with  you. 
The  idea  never  entered  my  mind." 

"  JSTo,  my  dear,  I  suppose  not ;  because  it  is  a 
wife's  mind,  and  no  such  ideas  could  possibly  creep 
in  there.  I  did  not  suppose  you  were  dissatisfied, 
love.  But  others  may  not  see  with  your  eyes,  or 
appreciate  your  husband's  efforts  quite  as  highly 
as  you  do.  However,  a  few  days  will  settle  the 
question.  We  will  not  speak  of  it  again,  for  the 
present." 

At  the  close  of  the  week,  Mr.  Herbert  told  his 
wife  that  he  had  decided  to  inform  his  people,  on 
the  next  Sabbath,  of  the  call,  and  appoint  a  gene 
ral  meeting,  for  the  Tuesday  following,  to  take  the 
question  into  careful  consideration. 

The  eventful  Tuesday  brought  a  very  full  at 
tendance,  and  the  reading  of  the  call  produced  great 
excitement.  Few  could  realize  that  such  an  offer 
could  be  declined.  But  immediately  after  the 
communication,  Mr.  Herbert  said  he  wished,  be 
fore  any  action  was  taken  upon  it,  to  make  a  frank, 
and  very  plain  statement. 


282  FROM  DAWN   TO   DAYLIGHT. 

He  then  calmly  reviewed  the  last  seven  years, 
distinctly  stating  how  very  severely  they  had  been 
straitened,  how  seriously  his  wife's  health  had 
been  injured,  by  her  efforts  to  supply  their  defi 
ciencies,  and  concluded  by  informing  them  that 
the  feeling  had  for  some  time  been  growing  upon 
him,  that  nothing  but  a  reluctance  on  their  part  to 
support  him,  and  a  desire  for  his  removal,  could 
have  induced  them  to  compel  him,  so  long,  to  con 
tend  with  difficulties  which  they  could  have  so 
easily  removed.  He  would,  therefore,  now  with 
draw,  and  leave  them  unembarrassed  by  his  pre 
sence,  to  settle  in  their  own  minds,  what  answer 
they  would  wish  returned  to  the  people  of  Mobile. 

The  next  morning,  a  committee  called  at  the 
parsonage,  bearing  the  results  of  their  delibera 
tions. 

They  had  examined  into  their  accounts,  and 
were  surprised  and  ashamed  to  find  themselves 
largely  in  their  pastor's  debt.  The  deficiency  had 
been  collected  on  the  spot,  and  a  vote  taken  to 
raise  the  salary  two  hundred  dollars,  and  a  com 
mittee  appointed  to  see  that  it  was  paid  promptly 
every  quarter. 

"  The  vote  was  unanimous,"  said  the  committee. 


ECCENTRICITY.  283 

'  save  one  dissenting  voice,  and  that  you  will  be 
surprised  to  learn  was  your  cousin's  husband, 
Mr.  Francis." 

"  Some  of  his  eccentricity,  I  presume.  But  what 
reason  did  he  give  ?" 

"  c  Oh,  it  costs  a  good  deal  to  keep  a  man  like 
Mr.  Herbert,  and  he  guessed  we'd  better  hunt  up  a 
cheaper  preacher.'  We  could  not  persuade  him 
to  pay  a  cent  toward  making  up  the  arrears. 
That's  a  specimen  of  his  pretended  friendship  for 
you,  I  suppose." 

"  Oh,  I'll  risk  Francis'  friendship.  It  will  all 
be  explained  to  my  entire  satisfaction,  and  his  com 
plete  vindication  from  anything  more  than  oddity, 
I  am  confident." 

"  Well,  we  hope  you'll  give  us  the  benefit  of  his 
reasons,  when  you  find  them." 

"  Yery  likely  the  only  way  I  shall  ever  get  at 
them,  will  be  by  a  promise  to  leave  you  all  as 
much  in  the  dark  as  you  now  are." 

"It  is  strange — no  matter  what  he  does,  you 
appear  to  think  Francis  always  right." 

"  !N"ot  exactly  right,  for  I  don't  believe  in  cheat 
ing  people  into  forming  false  estimates  of  any  one. 
But  he  is  a  right  noble,  generous  fellow,  with  all 


284:  FKOM  DAWN   TO   DAYLIGHT. 

his  faults,  as  we  have  tested  in  more  ways  than 
we  can  speak  of." 

"  Well,  let  that  pass.  "Will  you  now  dismiss  this 
call,  Mr.  Herbert,  that  has  given  us  all  such  a 
start  ?" 

"  Certainly,  if  the  start  produces  permanent 
effects.  I  am  greatly  attached  to  this  people,  and 
beside,  honestly  think  I  can  do  more  good  here 
than  in  a  new  place,  if  you  perform  your  duty  by 
a  strict  observance  of  the  promises  voluntarily 
made.  But  I  warn  you  fairly,  I  will  never  be 
brought  to  this  strait  again,  and  remain  with  you. 
I  can't  afford  to  be  constantly  '  bickering'  with  my 
people  about  money  matters,  nor  can  I  see  my 
wife  go  down  to  a  premature  grave  from  needlessly 
hard  work." 

That  same  evening,  Mr.  Francis  and  Nellie  came 
in  for  a  social  chat.  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Herbert  had 
resolved  to  make  no  allusion  either  to  the  call  or 
the  decision  of  the  people.  It  was  evident  he  was 
all  impatience  to  open  the  matter,  and  learn  their 
opinion  of  his  procedure.  The  evening  was  far 
spent,  and  no  mention  had  been  made  of  the  call, 
or  anything  connected  with  it ;  but  as  they  rose  to 
leave,  Mr.  Francis  said : 


CLEAR   GAIN.  285 

"  I  suppose  you  are  angry  that  I  advised  your 
accepting  that  call." 

"  Oh,  no,  not  at  all  angry.  But  let's  have  your 
reasons  for  wishing  me  to  leave,  and  I'll  promise  to 
go  to-morrow,  if  you  really  think  I  ought." 

"  Well,  if  I  choose,  I  could  give  most  excellent 
reasons,  and  if  I  did,  would  surely  hold  you  to 
your  promise,  to  go  immediately.  But  then  I'm 
timid)  and  dislike  to  talk  contrary  to  the  public 
voice.  They  might  mob  me,  or  burn  my  store 
if  I  did." 

He  then  handed  Mr.  Herbert  a  check  for  fifty 
dollars,  saying,  "  I  wouldn't  give  you  a  cent,  only 
Helen  quarrelled  with  me  so  for  not  subscribing  at 
the  meeting,  that,  for  peace  sake,  I  came  this  even 
ing  to  give  you  this." 

"  It  is  not  true,  Cousin  George,  indeed  it  is  not ! 
He  said  he  wouldn't  give  at  the  meeting,  because 
they  had  been  so  mean  in  allowing  your  salary  to 
remain  so  long  unpaid,  and  as  he  has  always  paid 
prompt  himself,  was  not  going  to  help  them  out  of 
a  ditch  of  their  own  digging.  Beside,  he  said, 
now  they  were  frightened,  they  would  have  no 
trouble  in  raising  it  without  his  help,  and  this 
which  he  has  handed  would  be  clear  gain." 


286  FROM   DAWN   TO   DAYLIGHT. 

"  Do  just  talk  to  him,  cousin,  and  tell  Mm  it  is 
wicked  to  try  to  make  people  think  so  wrongly 
of  him." 

"  Tell  her  it  is  wicked  to  betray  her  husband's 
confidence  in  this  way." 

And  they  said  good  night  with  happy  hearts — 
leaving  happy  ones  behind  them. 

"  Oh,  'tis  such  a  relief,"  said  Mary,  when  alone 
with  her  husband,  "  to  know  that  we  shall  not  be 
obliged  to  leave!  They  have  done  better  than  I 
expected,  in  paying  up  all  arrearages,  and  it  will 
enable  us  to  start  free  from  debts  once  more.  But 
do  you  feel  confident  they  will  keep  these  promises 
better  than  their  first  ?" 

"  Yery  doubtful.  But  c  sufficient  unto  the  day  is 
the  evil  thereof.'  "We  will  trust  them  till  they 
compel  us  to  doubt,  and  then,  they  have  been 
fully  warned,  and  can  blame  no  one  but  them 
selves,  if  the  consequences  of  their  folly  prove 
disagreeable." 


CHAPTER  XYIL 

THE   TEUE   SPHERE   OF   WOMAN. 

MKS.  HERBERT  had  not  thought  it  advisable  to 
increase  her  labors  by  receiving  any  boarders,  as 
the  promised  addition  to  their  income,  and  the 
payment  of  that  which  had  so  long  been  due, 
would,  she  hoped,  cancel  all  their  bills,  and  enable 
them  to  pass  the  year,  upon  which  they  were  no'W 
entering,  less  anxiously  than  heretofore.  Indeed, 
without  any  servant,  the  regular  work  of  her  own 
house,  the  care  of  her  three  little  ones,  and  all  the 
family  sewing,  unaided  by  a  "  Wheeler  &  Wilson," 
or  a  "  Grover  &  Baker,"  and  a  large  amount  of  com 
pany,  would  appear  to  most  of  our  readers  quite  as 
much  as  one  pair  of  hands  could  be  expected  to 
perform.  But  to  Mrs.  Herbert  this  was  luxury 
compared  to  some  of  the  past  years,  for  though 
few  meals,  if  any,  passed  without  a  guest  at  theii 
table,  this  seldom  interfered  with  the  enjoyment  ot 

287 


288  FEOM  DAWN  TO   DAYLIGHT. 

their  evenings.  These,  with  the  exception  of  the 
regular  weekly  meetings,  were  always  spent  to 
gether,  and  there  would  be  an  hour  or  two,  even 
after  the  meeting,  when,  her  children  quietly 
sleeping  near,  and  her  husband,  with  book  or  pen 
at  the  same  table  where  she  sat  busy  with  her 
needle,  eager  to  listen  to  any  chance  remark,  or  a 
sentence  from  his  writing,  she  thought  that  no  one 
could  ever  have  been  so  happy  as  herself. 

Their  garden,  also,  was  a  great  source  of  health 
ful  enjoyment,  as  well  as  a  very  necessary  part  of 
their  support. 

Mary  was  an  early  riser,  and  her  husband  had 
long  since  confessed  that  he  could  never  have  ac 
complished  so  much  but  for  this  habit.  Their 
breakfast  was  over,  and  the  morning's  work  all 
finished  before  their  neighbors  were  stirring,  and 
then,  if  Mr.  Herbert  had  no  early  engagement, 
they  took  the  little  ones  to  the  garden,  which  was 
some  distance  from  the  house.  Spreading  an 
old  rug  or  blanket  on  the  grass,  little  Susie  was 
left  to  care  for  Frank  and  Harry,  while  their 
parents  were  at  work ;  Mr.  II.  taking  the  rougher 
part,  left  the  transplanting  and  "  clearing  up  "  to 
his  wife.  These  were  the  bright,  happy  hours, 


TIIE   GAEDEN.  289 

compensating  for  the  pain  and  toil  of  many  dark 
ones. 

Their  garden  was  an  uncommonly  fine  one,  yield 
ing  an  abundant  supply  of  choice  things,  aside 
from  what  they  gained  by  sending  a  large  quantity 
of  vegetables  into  market.  They  could  boast  of 
the  largest  lettuce,  the  finest  peas,  the  earliest 
com  and  melons,  and  of  the  best  and  choicest 
variety. 

Then  the  pears,  peaches,  and  cherries — could 
any  be  found  that  tasted  half  so  sweet  or  juicy  as 
theirs  ?  No  market  ever  furnishes  vegetables  and 
fruits  so  palatable  as  those  which  our  own  hands 
have  planted  and  gathered.  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Herbert 
well  understood  this,  and  often  when  wearied  with 
care,  or  harassed  and  vexed  by  some  sad  develop 
ment  of  human  nature  in  those  around  them,  they 
would  say,  that  one  hour's  work  together,  in  this 
pleasant  spot,  could  dispel  the  clouds,  and  enable 
them  to  judge  more  charitably,  or  endure  more 
patiently,  the  faults  of  others,  besides  making  it 
tar  easier  to  correct  their  own. 

Their  little  patch  of  ground  abounded  in  valu 
able  fruit-trees,  most  of  which  had  been  set  out 
after  weekly  evening  meetings,  often  late  in  the 
13 


290  FROM   DAWN    TO   DAYLIGHT. 

night,  Mary  holding  the  lantern  and  steadying 
the  tree,  while  her  husband  placed  the  earth 
about  it. 

Happy  hours !  Toil  and  poverty  could  not  take 
them  from  them,  or,  should  brighter  days  dawn  in 
after  time,  and  under  more  prosperous  circum 
stances,  will  not  their  hearts  turn  from  affluence 
and  the  highest  refinements  of  life,  with  intense 
longings  for  the  simple  joys  shared  together,  and 
enriched  by  pleasant  and  affectionate  converse ! 

Mr.  Herbert's  great  pride  was  in  his  flower  gar 
den,  and  indeed  it  was  shared  by  half  the  place, 
"When  he  first  settled  in  Norton,  ornamental  gar 
dening  was  hardly  known,  except  in  very  rare 
cases.  The  good  people  wrould  have  thought  it 
very  ridiculous  to  have  been  found  busy  over  a 
fiawer-'bed.  It  was  too  childish,  and  besides, 
"What's  the  use?  "What  good  will  they  do?" 
"  What  good !  why,  they  make  you  happier  and 
better  every  time  you  look  at  them.  Try  it  a  year, 
and  you  will  never  ask  that  question  again."  And 
their  minister  determined  that  they  should  cultivate 
a  taste  for  the  bright  and  beautiful  flowers. 

O 

He  began  their  course  of  education,  by  being 
almost  always  seen  with  a  rose  or  rare  flower  in 


LOVE   FOE   FLOWEKS. 


his  hand,  -which  he  gave,  in  the  course  of  his  walks 
and  calls,  to  such  as  appeared  most  likely  to  appre 
ciate.  It  was  given  by  "  our  minister"  and  that 
was,  at  first,  its  chief  value.  But  flowers  cannot 
be  brought  before  any  one  constantly,  without 
their  learning  to  love  them  for  themselves,  as  well 
as  for  the  giver. 

Sometimes,  Mr.  Herbert  would  put  a  choice  rose 
in  a  pot  and  take  it  to  an  invalid,  telling  them  to 
watch  its  growth  and  minister  to  its  necessities,  and 
it  would  take  from  a  sick  room  half  its  tediousness. 

Occasionally,  during  a  call,  he  would  speak  of 
some  beautiful  plant  that  he  had  found  in  full 
bloom  in  his  yard,  that  morning  ;  and  when,  by 
his  happy  way  of  describing,  he  had  gained  the 
attention  of  the  family,  and  created  an  interest, 
would  point  to  a  place  in  their  own  garden  wrhere 
the  plant  or  shrub  would  look  finely  ;  and  add,  if 
it  would  be  gratifying,  he  should  be  happy  to 
transplant  it  there  himself. 

In  this  way,  a  floral  interest  had  been  gradually 
developed  among  the  people,  and  at  the  time  I 
write,  few  small  cities  could  be  found,  where  orna 
mental  shrubs  and  trees  were  so  abundant,  or 
selected  with  greater  taste. 


292  FROM  DAWN   TO  DAYLIGHT. 

"Time  rolls  its  ceaseless  course."  Eight  years 
have  ploughed  some  deep  furrows  in  the  smooth 
brows,  and  sprinkled  many  a  thread  of  silver  in 
the  brown  locks,  of  our  friends.  On  Mrs.  Herbert 
life's  burdens  had  left  deeper  traces  than  on  her 
husband.  She  had  not  his  healthful  elasticity  of 
spirit  and  natural  mirthfulness,  or  hopeful  way  of 
looking  upon  life.  She  did  not  see  the  "silver 
lining"  which  was  always  visible,  to  his  eyes, 
u  through  every  cloud."  An  unusual  amount  of 
sickness  and  severe  suffering  had  fallen  to  her  lot ; 
and  added  to  that,  a  degree  of  physical  labor  far 
beyond  her  strength,  and  from  which  it  was  impos 
sible  for  her  husband  to  shield  her,  without  a  con 
stant  neglect  of  most  important  duties.  There  had 
been  many  hours,  as  she  felt  strength  and  capacity 
for  exertion  diminishing,  when  her  youthful  aspi 
rations  were  brought  vividly  back  to  her  mind ; 
and  the  old  longing  for  high  intellectual  attain 
ments  returned  with  giant  strength.  Then,  con 
trasting  her  present  life  with  her  girlhood's  plans 
and  resolutions,  her  heart  shrank  back  from  the 
homely  reality.  To  spend  a  lifetime  in  this  weari 
some,  unchanging  routine — caring  only  for  bodily 
wants— to  cook — to  wash  and  mend — was  that  all 


293 

woman  was  born  for?  Was  a  wife  who  could  do 
only  that,  a  meet  companion  for  the  husband  in 
whom  she  gloried  ?  Would  the  fullness  of  her  love, 
poured  out  so  lavishly  upon  him,  satisfy  the  wants 
and  necessities  of  a  mind  like  his  ?  In  her  earlier 
married  life,  these  periods  of  despondency  had 
been  a  sad  drawback  to  her  happiness,  though 
carefully  hidden  in  her  own  heart ;  but  they  had 
yearly  diminished,  as  her  husband's  unvarying  gen 
tleness  and  loving  care  taught  her  daily  more  and 
more  confidence  in  her  ability  to  make  his  home 
all-sufficient  for  his  wishes.  She  was  learning  to 
place  a  higher  estimate  on  purely  domestic  qualifi 
cations — to  feel  that  a  woman's  proper  ambition 
should  be,  the  endeavor  to  relieve  her  husband, 
especially  if  a  professional  man,  from  those  home- 
cares  which  are  incompatible  with  high  mental 
effort — that  he  may  turn,  when  wearied  and  per 
plexed  with  parochial  or  public  duties,  to  his  own 
hearth  as  a  resting-place — the  sweetest  earthly  refuge 
for  care  and  trouble.  I  am  aware  that  the  strong 
minded  females  of  this  progressive  age  will  be  ex 
ceedingly  disgusted  with  such  a  sentiment ;  neve  - 
theless,  to  a  true  woman,  it  is  the  sweetest,  noblest 
mission  that  life  can  offer.  It  is,  I  am  persuaded 


294:  FROM   DAWN    TO    DAYLIGHT. 

just  wliat  God  meant  woman  to  do.  He  has  left  the 
bolder,  more  exposed,  and  demonstrative  paths  in 
life  for  man,  and  bestowed  on  woman  the  privilege 
of  shining  with  a  softer  light,  sheltered  and  guarded 
by  manly  love,  in  ajiome  made  heavenlike  by  her 
graceful  care  and  gentle  influences.  The  woman, 
so  happily  endowed  as  instinctively  to  fill  out  the 
picture  which  rises  before  my  mind,  but  which  my 
pen  so  feebly  portrays,  need  feel  no  envy  at  any 
public  distinction  or  applause  secured  by  some  of 
the  more  ambitious  but  less  favored  of  her  sex. 

Mrs.  Herbert  had  succeeded  better  than  the 
generality  of  wives  in  satisfying  her  husband,  that 
his  home  was  one  of  the  best  resting-places  in  the 
world,  and  now  that  her  health  was  so  rapidly  fail- 
Ing,  her  chief  sorrow  arose  from  the  fear  that  it 
would  become  so  hopelessly  impaired  as  to  disable 
her  from  making  this  place  any  longer  desir 
able  ;  and  the  old  longing  for  a  higher  state  of 
mental  culture,  that  she  might  still  continue  to  be 
in  some  degree  a  meet  companion  for  him,  dis 
tressed  her  exceedingly. 

There  were  also  other  sources  of  anxiety  that 
could  no  longer  be  concealed.  Two  years  had 
passed  since  the  good  people  of  Norton  had  been 


DARKER   CLOUDS.  295 

frightened  into  thoughtfulness  by  the  call  from 
Mobile,  spoken  of  in  the  last  chapter.  For  some 
months  all  went  smoothly,  bat  then  their  affairs 
began  gradually  to  fall  back  into  their  old  channel. 
Before  one  year  was  passed,  they  were  again  in 
debt  to  their  pastor,  but  promising  to  bring  all 
right  the  next  quarter.  The  second  year  was  now 
nearly  ended,  and  their  prospects  were  grow 
ing  darker  every  month.  The  conviction  was 
confirmed,  that  they  must  soon  bring  their  minds 
to  leave.  This  was  of  itself  a  painful  thought, 
but  darker  clouds  were  gathering  around 
them. 

Mary  was  often  cheered  by  pleasant  messages 
from  Hill  Farm.  Her  father  and  mother,  after  a 
life  of  toil,  were  enjoying  a  happy  and  peaceful 
old  age.  The  doctor's  character  became  mellow 
and  refined  by  advancing  years,  and  his  invaluable 
wife  was  reaping  the  fruits  of  her  patience  and 
gentleness  in  his  ready  acknowledgment  of  the  aid 
she  had  been  to  him,  and  high  estimate  of  her 
worth.  Her  children,  scattered  all  over  the  land, 
rose  up  and  called  her  blessed.  Few  had  more  oi 
life's  sweet  ties  and  bright  promises  to  make  this 
world  desirable,  and  yet  very  few  lived  more  con- 


296  FKOM   DAWN   TO   DAYLIGHT. 

stantly  prepared  to  resign  lier  choicest  treasures  at 
her  Father's  call. 

One  morning,  after  an  absence  of  a  few  hours, 
as  Mr.  Herbert  entered  his  door,  he  was  exceed 
ingly  alarmed  by  his  wife's  appearance.  She  sat 
by  the  window,  with  an  open  letter  in  her  hand, 
and  as  he  entered,  a  ghastly  smile  quivered  on  hei 
lip.  He  hastened  to  her  aid,  and  passing  his  arm 
fondly  around  her,  bent  over  her  and  read  one 
line.  It  was  enough.  "  My  poor  wife !"  He 
pressed  a  fervent  kiss  upon  her  brow,  and  as  he 
gathered  her  trembling  form  in  his  sheltering  arms, 
her  tears  flowed  freely,  and  the  bewildered  brain 
found  relief.  Dr.  Leighton  was  dead!  He  had 
passed  from  his  wife's  presence  with  a  playful  word, 
and  a  smile  on  his  lip,  and  was  brought  back  to 
her,  but  a  moment  after,  a  corpse. 

The  intelligence  had  been  abruptly  communi 
cated  to  his  daughter  at  a  time  when  she  was  least 
able  to  bear  it,  and  that  night  she  gave  birth  to  a 
puny  little  girl,  and  was  herself  for  many  days  in 
great  danger.  It  was  the  first  death  that  had 
occurred  in  her  father's  family — the  first  broken 
link  in  the  chain  that  had  been  growing  brighter 
for  forty  years. 


LIFE   UNCERTAIN.  297 

"Who  \vas  to  be  tlie  next  ?  It  made  life  and  all 
its  ties  very  uncertain,  more  so  than  any  trial  of 
her  past  life.  It  was  many  weeks  before  she  could 
in  any  degree  rise  above  the  stunning  effects  of  the 
shock.  Her  health  continued  very  frail,  and  her 
babe  did  not  thrive  as  her  children  had  usually 
done.  Some  rest  from  home  cares  appeared  abso 
lutely  necessary. 

In  this  emergency,  Mr.  Francis  and  her  cousin 
again  came  to  the  rescue.  Mr.  Herbert  was  obliged 
to  cross  the  prairies  to  attend  some  convention,  which 
journey  he  had  designed  to  take  on  horseback,  as 
the  least  expensive  mode  of  conveyance.  But 
Helen's  whole-hearted  husband  offered  them  a  car 
riage,  and  again  handed  Mrs.  Herbert  the  money, 
for  all  needful  expenditures  for  themselves  and 
children ;  their  church  meanwhile  looked  on,  and 
saw  these  arrangements  to  prolong  her  existence 
effected  by  charity,  while  they  were  in  her  hus 
band's  debt  nearly  four  hundred  dollars  of  the  last 
two  years'  salary.  But  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Herbert  knew 
it  was  no  fault  of  their  own,  that  they  were  placed 
in  circumstances  which  made  it  absolutely  necessary 
that  they  should  accept  this  gratuitous  assistance, 
and  therefore  did  not  allow  pride  to  prevent 
13* 


298  FBOM   DAWK   TO   DAYLIGHT. 

their  receiving  it   as  gratefully,  as  it  was  freely 
offered. 

This  journey  was  a  new  era  in  their  life's  history 
— a  glorious  spot  of  sunshine,  following  a  dark  and 
gloomy  storm.  Prairie  travelling  was  a  novelty  to 
both.  Broad  plains,  eighteen  and  twenty  miles  in 
extent,  without  a  tree,  shrub,  fence,  or  building. 
Even  the  road,  traceable  often  only  by  an  occa 
sional  deep  "  slew  hole,"  where  some  unfortunate 
teamster  or  traveller  had  been  "stalled"  and 
broken  up  the  earth  around  in  his  efforts  to  extri 
cate  himself  and  team  from  his  uncomfortable 
position.  Passing  those  way-marks,  they  would 
ride  miles,  guided  by  the  sun,  through  nature's 
flower-gardens,  regularly  laid  out  in  broad  strips, 
or  patches,  with  colors  tastefully  blended,  harmon 
ized,  or  contrasted.  Acres  of  wild  roses,  in  full 
bloom,  joined  by  equally  extensive  fields  of  purple, 
red,  or  crimson  zenias ;  then  the  large,  white  ox- 
eye,  the  golden  buttercup  or  coryopsis,  and  the 
deeper  purple,  almost  black  iron-weed — the  only 
dividing  line  between  being  the  change  in  color, 
as  one  species  of  flower  abruptly  displaced  the 
Dther.  The  scene  was  varied  occasionally  by  a 
flight  of  birds,  or  a  troop  of  deer,  startled  by  theii 


PKAIRIE   TRAVELLING.  299 

approach,  bounded  swiftly  across  their  track,  and 
were  soon  lost  to  sight  in  the  tall  grass  beyond. 
Silence  reigned  all  about  then,  broken  only  by 
their  own  voices,  or  the  slight  sound  of  their 
horses'  feet,  on  the  soft,  green  sward. 

The  monotony  of  prairie  travelling  soon  be 
comes  almost  painful,  and  our  travellers  learned 
to  hail  the  strips  of  woodland,  or  clearings,  as  they 
are  called,  which  occurred  every  fifteen  or  twenty 
miles,  with  the  pleasure  one  meets  an  old  friend, 
after  a  sojourn  among  strangers. 

These  clearings,  the  only  inhabited  spots  they 
passed  for  two  days,  consisted  of  a  tavern,  store, 
and  sometimes  a  post-office  combined,  a  rude 
church,  and  two  or  three  log-houses ;  and  here, 
where  they  stopped  to  rest  and  refresh  themselves 
and  horses,  the  accommodations  closely  resembled 
those  described  in  another  chapter.  But  every 
moment  was  too  full  of  happiness  and  pleasure  to 
be  disturbed  by  any  trifling  discomforts ;  besides, 
experience  had  taught  them  many  contrivances  for 
overcoming  the  inconveniences  and  annoyances  of 
western  travelling. 

Their  children  were  all  with  them,  and  nothing 
left  at  home  to  cause  anxiety.  Two  weeks  flew  by, 
full  of  unmixed  enjoyment,  and,  refreshed  in 


300  FEOM   DAWN   TO   DAYLIGHT. 

body  and  mind,  and  with  spirits  more  elastic 
than  they  had  been  since  Dr.  Leighton's  death, 
they  turned  their  faces  homeward,  cheerful  and 
happy. 

But  before  they  had  alighted  from  the  carriage, 
they  were  met  on  the  very  threshold  of  home  with 
tidings  of  the  most  afflicting  nature.  Their  be 
loved  brother  Frank,  surrounded  by  all  that  makes 
life  desirable,  free  from  many  of  the  cares  and 
trials  which  had  fallen  to  his  brother's  lot,  with  a 
wide  field  of  labor  spread  out  before  him,  and  a 
heart  zealously  devoted  to  his  work,  had,  thus 
early  in  life,  fought  the  fight,  finished  the  work 
allotted  him,  and  gone  home  to  his  God  and  Saviour, 
leaving  a  desolate  home,  a  mourning  people,  and  a 
host  of  aching  hearts — but  the  most  entire  confi 
dence  that  their  loss  was  his  infinite  gain.  Oh ! 
nobly  had  his  work  been  done !  and  now  he  rests 
from  his  labors.  Blessed  spirit ! 

Little  as  their  respective  fields  had  allowed  them 
to  be  together,  to  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Herbert,  their 
brother's  death  was  one  of  the  most  severe  afflic 
tions  that  had  ever  befallen  them — a  loss  that, 
even  if  they  linger  till  old  age,  will  never  be  for 
gotten — a  vacant  place  in  the  heart's  treasure 
house  which  can  never  be  refilled. 


CHAPTEE  XYIH. 

DEATH   OF  LITTLE   HARRY. 

ABOUT  this  period,  a  brother,  next  younger  than 
Mrs.  Herbert,  came  to  reside  in  Norton,  bringing 
with  him  a  wife  and  two  little  boys,  whom  she  had 
never  seen.  He  had,  for  some  years,  been  settled  in 
one  of  the  southern  cities,  and  had  married  there. 

~N~o  event  could  have  given  our  friends  greater 
pleasure  or  comfort  at  this  time,  while  their  hearts 
were  so  saddened  by  the  death  of  Mr.  Herbert's 
brother. 

Young  Dr.  Leighton  had  been  almost  as  a  twin- 
brother  to  Mary,  during  her  girlhood,  and  was 
especially  dear  to  her  husband.  He  was  the 
recipient  of  all  her  youthful  trials,  and  enjoy 
ments — the  trusty  friend  and  sympathizing  adviser, 
during  the  troubled  period  of  her  long  and  event 
ful  engagement,  and  though  he  had  left  home  and 
entered  into  business  before  her  marriage,  they 
had  always  corresponded  regularly ;  but  since  her 


801 


302  FROM    DAWN    TO    DAYLIGHT. 

wedding-day  had  met  but  once.  For  some  weeks 
they  were  all  one  family,  and  when  his  business 
arrangements  for  a  permanent  residence  in  the 
place,  were  completed,  they  were  still  almost 
within  speaking  distance.  The  two  families,  to 
gether  with  their  cousins,  formed  a  delightful  little 
circle,  and  the  interchange  of  visits  recalled  the 
pleasant  days  they  had  so  sadly  missed,  since  the 
death  of  Mrs.  Tompkins,  and  Mrs.  Jackson.  In 
her  brother's  wife,  she  found  just  the  companion 
her  heart  coveted.  Good,  sound  sense,  an  excel 
lently  cultivated  mind,  and  withal  very  affectionate 
and  gentle-hearted. 

"With  such  added  ties  to  bind  them  to  their 
people,  who,  though  so  regardless  of  their  interest 
and  comfort,  were  still  truly  beloved,  the  prospect 
of  being  absolutely  compelled  to  abandon  the  field, 
by  their  neglect  and  carelessness,  was  more  than 
ever  distressing,  and  they  were  encouraged  by  Mr. 
Francis  and  Charles  Leighton,  to  risk  the  accumu 
lation  of  debts,  and  make  another  year's  trial ;  the 
two  gentlemen  taking  good  care  the  church  should 
understand  that  it  was  through  their  advice,  and 
not  from  forgetfulness  on  their  pastor's  part,  of  the 
failure  of  all  their  promises,  as  a  people. 


THE   LITTLE   FOLKS.  303 

This  year,  which  was  to  settle  the  perpetually 
recurring  question,  of  the  possibility  of  their 
remaining  longer  in  Norton,  was  speeding  onward. 
Soothed  and  encouraged,  under  all  circumstances, 
by  the  presence  of  their  brother  and  his  wife,  and 
constant  intercourse  with  Mr.  Francis1  family,  these 
few  months  were,  in  many  respects,  among  their 
happiest  days  in  Norton. 

Little  Susie  was  now  almost  eight,  and  her 
mother's  ever-ready  assistant;  quiet  and  thought 
ful,  but  capable  and  practicable  beyond  her 
years. 

The  rosy,  little,  five-year-old  Frank,  a  bright 
and  happy  child,  would  gladly  have  contributed 
his  mite  of  assistance  in  this  industrious  household ; 
but,  unfortunately,  his  love  of  mischief  was  per 
petually  overcoming  his  honest  determination  to 
make  himself  useful. 

Little  Harry  was  past  three ;  a  manly  boy,  and 
though  merry-hearted  and  full  of  fun,  he  had  less 
propensity  for  mischievous  amusements,  than  his 
brother.  As  far  as  his  distinguishing  traits  were 
developed,  he  manifested  a  closer  resemblance  to 
his  father,  than  either  of  the  children. 

The  babe  had  outgrown  the  sickly  tendencies  of 


301  FROM    DAWN    TO    DAYLIGHT. 

the  first  few  months,  and  was  now  a  curly-headed, 
beautiful  little  damsel,  nearly  two  years  old. 

Their  cousin's  little  one,  of  the  same  age,  Charles 
Leighton's  two  sons,  of  seven  and  five,  when  united 
with  the  little  circle  in  the  weekly  visits,  inter 
changed  between  the  three  families,  composed  as 
beautiful  a  group  as  one  could  often  meet.  Few 
happier  hearts  could  be  found  than  the  fond 
parents'  when  watching  the  merry  gambols  and 
roguish  pranks  of  their  beloved  children. 

But  happiness,  alas !  is  a  transient  guest,  and  the 
peace  and  quiet  of  these  bright  clays  were  again 
disturbed  by  sickness  and  sorrow. 

Little  Susie,  for  the  first  time,  bowed  her  fair 
head  before  the  fever  her  poor  mother  had  always 
so  greatly  dreaded,  and  from  which  herself  and 
husband  had  so  often  suffered.  It  had  been  a 
source  of  deep  thankfulness  that  their  children 
had,  so  far,  escaped,  and  now,  to  see  their  patient 
little  daughter  shivering  in  the  chills,  or  tossing 
restlessly,  in  the  paroxysm  of  fever,  was  a  trial 
beyond  expression  bitter. 

It  is  hard  to  witness  sickness  and  suffering  of  any 
description,  in  old  or  young,  especially  when  one 
feels  powerless  to  relieve ;  but  there  are  few  things 


KICKNKHS.  .'J05 

BO  painful  to  wit  ne;  s,  :i,s  a  yoimi^  child  cnduriny  it,; 
first  lesson  in  cliil!  . 

There    18    !i    :lr:m.";e     myrfery,     whieh     the     lillle 

sufferer  recognizes;  a  vague  fenr,  which   I  have 

never    leen    numifi-sli-d    Ly  ;i    child    in    ;iny   oilier 

'Die     unn;il!ir;il     (•(,!(]     tlljlf.    CITC],    ,    crc«|,:, 

OV6JT   lln-.  l>"'ly,  ;uul    I!M:II  the,  leri'ihle  power 
th;if,  '//;///   ,s-//^/vj    tin;    \vhoh;   fr.'iine,    in    Fpife   of    the 

most  reroliife.  efioris  (o  overcome  ii,  is  h.-inl  enough 

lor  older  ;ind  slonlei-  he;irls  lo  eoj.e.  will)  ;  l*iii,  ;i 
little  child,  with  ils  liny  chilled  finders,  ils  poor, 
])Iue,  pinched  no:-e,  ils  anxioi  I  nrned,  qua  - 

lionii!;/;ly,  IVoni  one  ;iffcnd:inl  lo  .-molli^r,  will   try  a 

.       nerVe*    ^llile,     •>,-,     ;-e\-c]-c|y    iis     inoi'e     .'leill.C 

;.'-,  or  uhirniin^  illne,s  cjiu  do. 

Susie  v,:i.  taken  suddenly  one,  evening,  :md  ;d'ie,r 

a  flleepleSfl    Qlght,  Lei    niolher    h;id    the,   :  ;ili,  f-ielion 
<  ing  the  darllDg  child  nnk  iulo  :i  (jniet  ;-Iii?nl)»-r  ; 
both  chill  and  fever  Qfll  '  d  for  the  time. 

lin^nirhin^  Lcr  lump  Bl  morning  d;iwned? 
and  krivin^  01|('  '"ore,  ;orrowf'ul  look'  ;it,  the 
exhausted  little,  sleeper,  Mr.  Iferherf,  li;i~lenf-(|  lo 
relieve  her  hn:-h:ind,  who  h;id  ri  en,  li;dited  the  fire, 
and  \vas  now  drexsin^,  and  trying  to  hii:h  the  two 
bright  and  merry  boys. 


306  FROM   DAWN   TO   DAYLIGHT. 

Breakfast  was  over,  the  morning  prayers  had 
been  offered,  and  as  the  children  rose  from  their 
knees  to  receive  the  kiss  always  claimed  at  this 
time,  Frank  laid  his  head  on  his  father's  breast, 
saying,  "  I  feel  so  sick,  papa !"  The  blue  lips,  cold 
fingers  and  purple  nails,  told  the  nature  of  his 
illness,  and  he  was  immediately  laid  by  his  sister,  a 
captive  to  the  same  stern  tyrant.  Judge  how 
forlorn  must  have  been  the  prospect,  when  the 
brightest  spot  that  even  Mr.  Herbert,  with  his 
hopeful  spirit,  could  see,  was,  "Well,  my  dear,  it  is 
a  mercy  that  our  poor  little  ones'  chills  will  come 
on  alternate  days,  and  one  will  be  comparatively 
comfortable  while  the  other  is  shaking,  and  thus 
lighten,  somewhat,  your  labor  in  nursing."  And 
this  was  a  comfort,  the  extent  of  which  few  of  my 
readers  can  fully  estimate,  unless  capable,  by  the 
power  of  imagination,  of  placing  them  in  such  cir 
cumstances  as  are  here  represented.  ISTo  servants, 
two  children  sick,  and  two  younger  to  be  watched 
and  guarded  if  possible  from  the  same  sufferings, 
and  all,  for  sick  or  well,  to  be  done  by  one  person, 
and,  after  the  first  week,  without  the  important  aid 
her  husband  most  kindly  rendered.  For,  just  at 
this  period,  it  was  important  that  he  should  bo 


FATHER'S  EETTJKN.  307 

absent  for  two  weeks,  at  a  public  meeting,  and  as 
the  children  were  not  dangerously  ill,  apparently, 
he  was  reluctant  to  decline  going. 

During  his  absence,  Mrs.  Herbert  had  every  aid 
that  her  brother,  Dr.  Leighton,  now  fully  estab 
lished  in  Norton,  could  give ;  but  both  his  wife 
and  Mrs.  Francis,  who  would  have  been  invaluable 
assistants,  were  too  ill  themselves  to  assist ;  on  the 
contrary,  they  were  sources  of  painful  solicitude  to 
Mrs.  Herbert  themselves. 

After  a  severe  struggle,  Susie  and  Frank  began 
to  convalesce,  and  when  their  father  returned,  had 
passed  four  days  without  a  "  chill,"  and  could  sit 
up  a  short  time  each  day. 

Harry,  and  little  baby  Nellie,  met  their  father 
with  shouts  of  rejoicing,  and  the  two  invalids, 
though  pale  and  feeble,  joined  their  voices  in  the 
loving  "  welcome  home,  papa."  The  dinner,  that 
day,  was  prepared  and  eaten  more  cheerfully  than 
before  for  many  weeks.  After  tea,  Mr.  Herbert 
complained  of  fatigue  and  slight  illness,  which  he 
thought  a  good  night's  sleep  would  remove,  retired 
early,  and  Mrs.  Herbert,  whose  only  rest  during 
the  children's  illness  had  been  gained  in  a  chair  by 
their  bedside,  told  her  husband  she  must  remain 


308  FEOM    DAWN   TO   DAYLIGHT. 

up  a  short  time,  to  attend  to  some  sewing,  which 
sickness  had  accumulated,  and  would  then  try  the 
luxury  of  retiring  in  a  regular  way. 

Just  then,  her  brother  came  in  to  make  his  call 
for  the  night.     He  examined  the  little  sleepers, 
said  all  were  doing  well,  and,  as  he  himself  had  had 
a  "  chill "  that  afternoon,  he  would  go  home,  and 
unless  there  should  be  some  change  for  the  worse, 
should  not  call  the  next  day  till  late.     Just  as  he 
left,  he  turned   back  and   stooping  to  kiss  little 
Harry,  his  especial  favorite,  said :  "  Sister  Mary, 
Harry  seems  feverish,  does  he  not?     His  pulse  is 
quick,  and  his  cheek  too  red.     It  is  very  slight, 
however,  and  may  be  but  the  heat  of  the  room, 
though  I  don't  quite  like  his  looks.      Don't  be 
uneasy,  but  try  to  rest  to-night  yourself.      If  he 
should,  by  and  by,  grow  restless,  give   him  this 
powder."     Mrs.  Herbert  stood  watching  the  child, 
for  some  moments  after  her  brother  departed ;  but 
detecting  no  cause  for  alarm,  sat  down  to  her  sew 
ing  till  near  midnight,  then  excessive  weariness 
compelled  her  to  prepare  for  rest.    "While  at  work, 
she  had  placed  her  chair  where  she  could  con 
stantly  watch  little  Harry's   slumbers,  and  they 
were  so  gentle  and  undisturbed  as  to  relieve  her 


FADING,    STILL   FADING.  309 

entirely  of  anxiety.  But  as  she  drew  liis  little 
crib  close  to  her  bedside,  she  detected  some  strange 
change — she  knew  not  what,  save  that  it  made  her 
own  heart  beat  wildly.  He  was  deadly  pale,  and 
the  perspiration  stood  in  great  beads  on  his  brow. 
As  she  raised  him  in  her  arms,  he  moaned,  then 
throwing  himself  back,  his  limbs  stiffened  in  a 
fearful  convulsion. 

She  called  loudly  for  her  husband,  wrho  was 
instantly  by  her  side.  Dressing  hastily,  he  ran  at 
once  for  her  brother.  "When  the  two  returned,  the 
convulsion  had  passed,  but  the  child  lay  uncon 
scious  in  his  poor  mother's  arms. 

And  so  for  eight  long,  sad  days  he  lingered, 
fading,  fading,  still  fading.  The  gently  heaving 
breast  alone  gave  token  of  life ;  not  a  moan,  or 
effort  at  motion,  disturbed  the  fearful  quiet  of  that 
little  form!  Can  this  be  rosy,  bright  and  active 
Harry !  He  whom  his  mother  had  always  held — 
half  unconsciously  to  herself—a  little  closer  than 
the  others,  because  he  was  papers  miniature,  and 
was  going,  some  day,  to  be  like  him — a  good  and 
noble  man!  and  fill  his  father's  place  in  the  world, 
when  he  wras  old  and  past  labor.  How  often,  in 
his  baby  days,  had  she  softly  murmured  all  this  in 


310  FKOM   DAWN   TO   DAYLIGHT. 

those  low  tones  with,  which  fond  mothers  are  wont 
to  lull  their  treasures  to  rest !  How  often, 
as  months  sped  by,  carrying  him  from  babyhood 
to  boyhood — when,  mother-like,  before  retiring1, 
she  gave  a  last  look  to  each  pretty  sleeper — had 
she  pressed  her  lips  to  Harry's  noble  brow,  and 
whispered,  "  Dear  papa? s  own  ~boy  !"  Then  feeling 
half  guilty  lest  she  had  wronged  the  other  dear 
ones,  turned  back  to  kiss  them  also.  And  when, 
fresh  and  rosy  from  the  morning's  bath,  each 
happy,  joyful  birdling  flew  merrily  to  call  the 
father  from  his  garden-work,  and  Harry  plead  to 
be  carried  on  his  shoulder,  "  because  he  was  papa's 
own  little  man,"  how  had  she  smiled  to  think  of 
the  secret  significance  that  expression  had  to  her 
own  heart ! 

The  sun  was  spreading  its  morning's  beauties 
over  the  earth — a  bright  beam  stole  into  that 
sad,  darkened  room,  and  rested  on  the  face 
once  so  beautiful  and  rounded,  now — oh !  how 
sunken  and  ghastly  !  Good  old  Charley,  who  for 
days  had  been  sadly  neglected,  was  just  freed  from 
the  confinement  of  his  stall,  and  trotted  briskly  up 
to  the  door  for  the  morning  greeting  he  had  ever 
been  accustomed  to  receive  from  the  children 


QUICK,   QUICK,   JOHNNY.  311 

Poor  Charley!  will  you  ever  carry  your  little 
master  so  gently  round  the  yard  again,  curbing 
your  proud,  fiery  steps  and  yielding  your  great 
strength  to  the  guidance  of  that  tiny  hand  ?  Oh, 
what  a  spasm  wrung  the  poor  mother's  heart, 
when,  with  a  low  whinny  of  disappointment,  the 
true-hearted  steed  paced  slowly  away,  and  she 
turned  from  the  window  to  bend  in  agony  over 
her  boy  !  Her  youngest  brother  had  but  the  day 
before  arrived,  and  was  standing  by  the  crib.  The 
child,  for  the  first  time  since  his  illness,  opened  his 
eyes.  "  Mamma,  papa  !" 

She  snatched  him  to  her  breast — "  Quick,  quick ! 
Johnny,  call  George !  He  will  live  !  our  loy  will 
live  !  Brother  Charles  and  Dr.  Brown  said,  if  we 
could  only  rouse  him,  all  would  be  well.  Quick, 
Johnny,  quick  /"  There  w^as  no  need,  for  the  father 
heard  that  feeble  voice,  and  already  holds  the  boy 
close  to  his  throbbing  heart,  while  Johnny,  seizing 
the  halter,  springs  with  one  bound  on  Charley's 
back,  without  hat,  saddle,  or  bridle. 

It  needs  but  a  word  to  put  the  noble  beast  to 
his  full  speed.  His  fleet  footsteps  but  ring  and 
echo  on  the  little  bridge,  ere  horse  and  rider  are 
lost  to  sight,  and  in  a  few  moments  Dr.  Leigh 


312  FKOM  DAWN   TO   DAYLIGHT. 

ton  and  his  partner  were  with  them.  Mr.  Her 
bert  still  held  the  darling  child ;  one  little,  pale 
hand  is  pressed  to  his  father's  cheek;  the  other, 
as  when  in  health,  thrown  lovingly  round  his 
neck ;  while  the  mother,  with  tears  of  joy  and 
hope  bedewing  her  face,  is  kneeling  at  her  hus 
band's  side.  "  Oh,  brother,  he  woke  and  knew  us 
all  and  played  a  moment  so  sweetly  with  George's 
face  !  but,  poor  little  fellow,  he  is  so  weak  that  he 
soon  grew  tired  and  sleeps  now."  Her  husband's 
eyes  are  fixed  on  her  brother's,  for  there  is  a  fear 
ful  look  upon  his  face,  hardly  consistent  with  such 
happiness  as  they  were,  but  a  moment  before,  feel 
ing  ;  and  as  Mary  observed  the  expression,  she  trem 
blingly  exclaims,  "Why  don't  you  speak,  brother? 
You  and  Dr.  Brown  both  said,  if  we  could  wake 
him  to  consciousness,  he  would  get  well." 

Twice  her  brother  essayed  to  speak,  but  failed. 
Mr.  Herbert  placed  the  babe  in  his  mother's  arms  ; 
the  veins  stood  out  like  cords  on  his  brow — and  his 
lips  were  deadly  pale,  as,  laying  a  cold  and  clammy 
hand  on  Dr.  L.'s  arm,  he  said : 

"  Speak,  dear  brother !  Tell  me  all !  I  can  bear 
it.  What  do  you  fear  ?" 

The  doctor  placed  his  arms  about  the  poor  father. 


NATURE'S  LAST  EFFORT.  313 

saying :  "  My  dearest  brother,  this  is  nature's  last 
effort — our  little  noble  Harry  is  dying" 

!N~o  other  word  was  spoken.  The  smile — half 
fear,  half  hope — with  which  Mrs.  Herbert  had 
greeted  her  brother,  remained  frozen  on  her  lip,  as 
she  still  held  her  precious  child,  while  with  burn 
ing  brain,  but  tearless  eyes,  her  husband  seated 
himself  beside  her,  in  the  vain  effort  to  prepare  for 
the  coming  struggle.  Alas !  who  was  ever  prepared 
for  this? 

John  Leighton  had  turned  the  panting  steed  loose 
into  the  yard,  and  at  this  moment,  with  radiant 
face,  entered  the  room,  to  join  in  the  congratula 
tions  which  he  anticipated  when  he  left,  and  stood 
for  a  moment  spell-bound  at  the  change  he  encoun 
tered — then  drew  near  to  witness,  for  the  first 
time,  the  approach  of  death.  Scarce  a  movement 
or  word  broke  the  awful  silence.  There  was  no 
thing  now  to  do  but  watch  that  cherished  one, 
whose  life  was  so  quietly  passing  away,  and  as  the 
sun,  which,  in  his  morning  brightness,  seemed  to 
bring  "  healing  in  his  beams,"  sank  slowly  down 
beneath  the  horizon,  little  Harry's  last  breath  fanned 
his  mother's  death-like  cheek,  and  his  beautiful 
spirit  returned  to  its  home  in  heaven. 

14 


314  FKOM   DAWN   TO   DAYLIGHT. 

Nellie,  the  youngest,  had  been  sent  to  her  cou 
sin's,  Mrs.  Francis,  and  the  invalid  children  (kept 
in  another  room  with  a  careful  friend),  had  been 
almost  forgotten  during  the  dark  hours  of  this 
miserable  day;  but  now  the  thought  that  they 
must  be  told  of  their  brother's  death,  and  the  fear 
that  the  shock  might  harm  them  seriously,  in  their 
feeble  condition,  roused  the  afflicted  parents  from 
the  stupor  of  grief. 

Little  Susie  heard  the  tidings,  and  looked  on  the 
dear  one  she  had  so  often  nursed,  with  deep,  silent 
and  most  unchildlike  sorrow ;  but  Frank,  in  uncon 
trollable  anguish,  threw  himself  on  the  floor  be 
side  his  cold  and  lifeless  playmate,  exclaiming: 
"  Oh !  mamma,  mamma,  I  won't  love  God  any 
more !  You  said  he  was  good,  but  it's  no  good  to 
take  our  pet  Harry  away  from  us ;  and  I  can't  love 
him  any  more — oh,  never !" 

"  Little  Harry,"  said  his  father,  soothingly,  "  my 
dear  child,  is  very  happy  now.  He  has  gone  to 
heaven — to  Jesus — among  the  glorious  angels  who 
sing  God's  praises  forever." 

"  Oh,  papa !"  cried  the  child,  "  God  has  plenty 
of  little  angels  up  there  to  sing  praises.  He  could 
have  spared  us  our  darling  brother,  I  know." 


THY  WILL  BE  DONE.  315 

Has  there  been  no  such  reproachful  cry  wrung 
from  older  and  truly  Christian  hearts  in  the  first 
hour  of  sorrow  and  bereavement  ?  "Who  shall  too 
severely  censure,  if  the  same  thought  was  echoed 
from  the  wretched  mother's  bosom  ?  ~Not  so  with 
her  noble  husband,  however.  "With  the  simple 
faith  of  a  little  child,  he  recognized  a  father's  hand, 
meekly  he  bowed  his  head,  assured  that  "  He  doeth 
all  things  well,"  and  said,  "  Thy  will  be  done." 

Two  days  after,  his  face  shining  with  the  glorious 
consolations  which  were  shedding  their  healing 
balm  over  his  spirit,  Mr.  Herbert  stood  by  the 
coffin  of  his  beloved  child,  surrounded  by  weeping 
friends  and  parishioners,  and  himself  conducted 
the  funeral  services  before  committing  the  precious 
form  to  the  earth.  And  when,  most  tenderly,  he 
seated  the  drooping  mother  in  the  carriage,  in 
which  had  been  placed  the  little  coffin,  that  hid 
their  beloved  boy  from  their  eyes,  his  face  was 
radiant  with  the  peace  which  passeth  understand 
ing,  and  the  words  of  comfort,  softly  whispered 
into  her  ear,  enabled  her  to  stand  by  his  side  at 
that  open  grave,  and  see  the  child,  which  had 
known  no  colder  cradle  than  her  loving  breast, 
laid  therein. 


316  FROM  DAWN   TO   DAYLIGHT. 

But  who  can  hear  that  fearful  sound — the  heavy 
fall  of  the  earth  on  the  coffin's  lid — unmoved  ?  The 
groan  which  burst  from  Mr.  Herbert's  breast,  as 
he  turned  with  his  suffering  wife  to  the  carriage,  was 
no  dishonor  to  his  faith  and  hope,  for  his  master 
wept  over  the  grave  of  Lazarus,  even  while  know 
ing  that  his  own  voice  would  soon  command  the 
silent  occupant  to  come  forth  and  awake  to  a  new 
life. 


CHAPTEE  XIX. 

CONCLUSION. 

How  many  of  those  who  may  read  these  pages 
will  at  once,  as  is  most  natural,  picture  to  them 
selves  our  friends'  return  to  their  desolate  home. 
And  they  will  imagine  the  sad  and  heavy-hearted 
father,  hardly  capable  of  attending  to  the  most 
pressing  duties ;  the  drooping  mother,  clad  in  sombre 
robes,  weeping  away  the  heavy  hours,  or  lying  ex 
hausted  on  the  sofa,  too  absorbed  in  sorrow  to 
notice  the  efforts  of  her  remaining  children  to 
attract  her  notice  or  claim  her  care ;  and  the  servants 
gliding  noiselessly  about  the  house,  in  their  simple- 
hearted  sympathy  with  their  employers'  sorrows. 

Ah,  these  luxuries  of  grief  are  not  for  the  poor  or 
for  the  faithful.  ~No  mourning  apparel — no  darkened 
rooms — no  luxuriant  sofa — no  obsequious  attend 
ants  to  obviate  the  necessity  for  household  labor, 
and  give  the  trembling  frame  a  moment  for  repose 

317 


318  FKOM   DAWN   TO   DAYLIGHT. 

On  the  contrary,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Herbert  go  back 
to  their  silent  abode  to  resume  laborious  duties, 
which  had  only,  for  a  few  hours,  been  intermitted, 
and  to  force  back  into  the  deepest  recesses  of  their 
own  hearts  the  ever-present  consciousness  of  their 
loss— 

"  To  miss  his  small  feet  on  the  stair, 
To  miss  him  at  the  morning  prayer, 
To  miss  him  all  day — everywhere.''1 

All  thirf  sorrow  must  be  battled  with  in  silence, 
for  other  afflicted  ones  are  in  their  midst.  They 
may  not  falter  and  sink  beneath  personal  griefs. 
They  must  look  above  to  their  Master  for  help  to 
bear  their  own  burdens,  and  strength  to  comfort 
other  mourners. 

Mrs.  Francis,  though  feeble,  had  been  at  the  par 
sonage  at  little  Harry's  funeral,  but  Mrs.  Leighton 
was  very  ill.  Her  third  child  was  born  the  very 
day  that  her  favorite  nephew  died,  and  Mrs.  Her 
bert  returned  from  the  burial  only  to  find  an  urgent 
request  for  her  to  come  at  once  to  her  brother's. 
She  found  Sarah  very  feeble,  and  her  husband 
seriously  alarmed.  There  was  no  severe  pain,  but 
total  prostration  of  the  system,  and  apparently  no 
power  to  rally.  Still,  it  was  difficult  to  believe  that 


FEAKING    NO   EVIL.  319 

life  was  drawing  to  a  close,  while  conversing  with 
her. 

Her  sick-room  was  the  pleasantest  spot  in  the 
house.  She  was  always  cheerful,  always  satisfied 
and  contented,  receiving  with  affectionate  gratitude 
each  token  of  care  and  attention,  and  only  anxious 
to  cause  as  little  trouble  as  possible. 

She  was  not  aware,  as  yet,  of  the  fears  that  dis 
tressed  her  friends ;  but  all  felt  confident  that  her 
heart  was  stayed  on  God,  and  that  the  summons  to 
pass  through  the  dark  valley  and  cross  the. flood, 
would  find  her  "  fearing  no  evil,  for  the  rod  and 
staff"  of  Almighty  love,  would  comfort  and 
strengthen  her. 

No  suffering  disturbed  her  tranquil  spirit.  The 
chastening  rod  was  laid  very  lightly  upon  her. 
"When  inquiries  were  made,  from  day  to  day,  as  to 
her  health,  her  reply  was,  "  Oh,  I  should  feel  quite 
well  if  I  were  not  so  tired  /"  and  she  often  sport 
ively  added  to  Mrs.  Herbert,  "  Sister  Mary,  won't 
your  brother  get  out  of  patience  with  such  an 
indolent  wife  ?  It  does  seem  so  ridiculous  that  I 
should  call  myself  ill,  when  I  have  so  little  pain. 
If  you  and  my  husband  did  not  manifest  such  so 
licitude,  and  care  for  me  so  tenderly,  I  should 


320  FliOM   DAWN   TO   DAYLIGHT. 

sometimes  be  half  afraid  that  you  might  by  and 
by  think  I  made  no  effort  to  get  well.  But  you 
are  both  so  kind — true  brother  and  sister  in  spirit, 
as  well  as  by  natural  ties.  It  tries  me  greatly,  dar 
ling  sister,  that  I  can  be  no  help  or  comfort  to  you 
since  our  dear  little  Harry  left  us." 

"Do  not  say  so,  dearest  Sarah.  It  is  a  great 
relief  from  my  own  thoughts  to  come  to  you  as 
often  as  I  can,  and  if  I  could  see  you  improving 
even  a  little,  I  think  I  should  be  almost  happy  once 
more." 

Sarah  was  slightly  agitated  when  she  replied : 

"Don't  you  think  I  am  some  better?  I  have 
several  times  thought  by  your  manner  lately — 
Mary,  dear,  you  surely  do  not  think  me  danger 
ously  ill?" 

She  gazed  earnestly  into  her  sister's  face,  and 
could  not  fail  to  read  the  fears  which  had  for  some 
days  distressed  all  her  friends.  The  invalid  covered 
her  face  with  her  hand,  and  the  tears  slowly 
glided  between  her  pale  fingers.  After  a  long 
silence,  she  looked  up,  and  save  that  her  eye 
was  brighter,  hardly  any  trace  of  agitation  was 
visible. 

"  This  is  very  unexpected  and  sudden,  my  kind 


CHRISTIAN    DESIGNATION. 

sister,  yet  you  need  not  so  long  have  concealed 
your  anxiety  from  me.  I  know  in  whom  I  have 
believed,  and  though  it  is  hard,  very  hard,  to  leave 
loving  friends — my  dear  husband  and  those  pre 
cious  little  ones — yet,  God  knows  best,  and  he  will 
give  me  strength  to  part  with  them,  fully  assured 
of  meeting  all  that  my  heart  so  fondly  clings  to,  in 
that  home  where  there  will  be  no  sorrow,  and 
6  where  the  inhabitants  shall  no  more  say  lam  sick.' " 
She  continued  for  some  days  with  no  sensible 
change,  speaking  freely  of  her  condition  (for  after 
a  long  and  solemn  conversation  with  her  husband, 
he  was  compelled  to  acknowledge  to  her  that  he 
could  see  no  prospect  of  recovery),  and  as  calmly 
expressing  her  wishes  respecting  her  children,  and 
all  pertaining  to  them,  as  if  she  was  only  prepar 
ing  for  a  journey.  To  the  very  last  she  was  free 
from  pain,  and  even  the  final  struggle  with  the  Con 
queror  was  most  mercifully  spared  her.  The  last 
morning  of  her  earthly  life,  she  had  appeared  as 
well  as  usual,  and  was  sitting  up,  when  she  sud 
denly  exclaimed,  "7"  am  so  tired!  Please,  dear 
husband,  help  me  to  the  bed."  He  did  so,  and 
placed  her  in  a  favorite  position.  She  looked  into 

his  face,  with  her  own  loving  smile,  and  folding 

14* 


322  FROM   DAWN   TO   DAYLIGHT. 

her  hands  upon  her  breast,  closed  her  eyes,  as  if 
dropping  sweetly  to  sleep.  But  in  an  instant 
she  started,  exclaiming,  "  Charles,  Charles,  dear 
Charles !"  and  ceased  to  breathe. 

And  thus  another  link,  from  the  golden  chain  of 
earthly  love,  was  carried  by  this  dear  sister,  to 
unicS  our  sorrowing  friends  still  more  closely  to  the 
heavenly  world,  and  the  precious  ones  safely 
gathered  there. 

The  bereaved  husband,  and  motherless  children, 
were  taken  at  once  to  the  parsonage.  The  little 
babe,  of  but  a  few  weeks,  tarried  only  long 
enough  to  make  the  desolate  house  still  more 
lonely,  when  he  took  his  departure  for  the  better 
home,  to  which  his  mother  had  ascended. 

Under  these  circumstances,  it  would  seem  only 
natural  to  suppose,  that  in  the  hour  of  such  severe 
trials,  the  people  comprising  Mr.  Herbert's  church 
and  congregation  would  rouse  to  a  realizing  sense 
of  the  claims  their  pastor  had  upon  them,  and 
relieve  him,  at  least,  from  pecuniary  anxiety.  Not 
so  at  all.  They  had  bustling  manifestations  of 
sympathy  for  the  sick-room,  instead  of  efficient  ser 
vice — and  tears  in  floods  for  the  coffin  and  the 
grave,  and  for  those,  who,  resting  from  life's  cares, 


INEFFICIENT   SYMPATHY.  323 

in  the  full  enjoyment  of  unmixed  blessings,  were 
no  longer  conscious  of  the  interest  manifested — but 
dry  eyes,  and,  at  ~best,  careless,  heedless  hearts,  for 
the  less  favored  survivors,  to  whom  an  efficient 
sympathy r,  or  even  common  justice,  would  have 
been  an  unspeakable  comfort  and  relief. 

But  tears,  without  works,  are  cheap ;  they  cost 
the  givers  nothing,  and  are  always  on  hand ;  but 
they  will  not  clothe  the  mourner,  or  keep  the 
house  warm,  or  pay  the  grocer,  and  many  other 
common,  homely  kind  of  things,  which  will  put 
themselves  in  a  body's  way  even  when  the  heart  is 
heavy,  and  the  home  too  still ! 

The  second  year  of  trial,  which  Mr.  Francis  and 
Dr.  Leighton  had  urged  Mr.  Herbert  to  give  his 
people,  before  finally  resolving  to  resign,  was  fast 
passing  away.  And  after  the  first  few  weeks  of 
wakening,  no  change  was  visible  in  the  Norton 
fashion  of  supporting  the  Gospel.  They  slept  as 
soundly  as  ever,  and,  weakened  by  illness,  and 
bereavement,  the  good  couple  were  becoming 
almost  indifferent  as  to  the  result.  It  was  at  this 
time  that  an  incident  occurred  which  cut  them 
to  the  heart. 

When  little  Harry  died,  his  father  requested  ono 


324:  FKOM  DAWN   TO   DAYLIGHT. 

of  the  officers  of  the  church  to  take  charge  of  all  the 
funeral  arrangements,  and  at  the  same  time,  most 
earnestly  entreated  that  all  the  bills  connected 
with  the  sad  ceremony  might  be  discharged  at 
once,  so  that  no  business  allusions  should  ever  be 
made  to  them  upon  this  painful  subject.  The 
church  and  society  were,  at  this  very  time,  indebted 
to  their  pastor  full  three  hundred  dollars,  and  one 
would  suppose  that  a  commission  so  sacred  as  this 
would  not  be  forgotten  or  neglected. 

Just  at  this  period,  Mr.  Herbert  fell  severely 
ill,  and  for  some  days  a  few  of  his  most  intimate 
friends,  among  the  officers  of  the  church,  as  well 
as  the  physicians,  were  in  almost  constant  attend 
ance.  The  room  where  he  lay  served  as  study, 
parlor,  bed  room,  and  hall — the  front  door  open 
ing  directly  into  it.  One  day,  just  as  the  paroxysm 
of  fever  was  passing  away,  two  of  the  elders  of  the 
church  and  Dr.  Leighton,  were  standing  near  the 
bedside,  when  a  man  rode  close  to  the  door-steps,  so 
as  to  be  able  to  look  full  upon  the  bed,  and  in  a 
coarse,  boisterous  voice,  called  out :  "  I  say  there  ! 
(Two  or  three  weeks  ago,  I  made  the  coffin  and 
buried  a  young  one  from  here,  and  was  told  that 
I  wasn't  to  come  here  for  my  pay,  but  it  would 


I   WANT   MY   MONEY.  325 

be  handed  me  by  the  man  who  engaged  the  work. 
"Wall,  IVe  asked  for  it,  and  asked  for  it,  and  h'ant 
got  the  pay ;  and  I  tell  you  more,  this  'ere  way  of 
doing  business  ain't  my  fashion.  I  am  poor.  I 
want  my  money,  and  will  have  it !" 

Mrs.  Herbert  hastened  to  the  door  at  the  first 
sound,  and  tried  to  check  the  torrent  of  words 
before  her  husband  should  understand  the  matter. 
But  she  could  not  succeed.  lie  started  up  in 
bed,  and  casting  a  severe  and  reproachful  glance 
upon  Mr.  Sanders,  one  of  the  gentlemen  to 
whom  he  had  intrusted  this  most  sacred  commis 
sion,  inquired  why  a  request,  made  under  such 
solemn  circumstances,  had  been  neglected.  For 
getful/ness  was  the  only  plea  to  excuse  that  which 
had  caused  them  so  cruel  an  insult.  This  was  one 
of  the  things  which,  though  forgiven,  was  never 
forgotten,  and  never  could  be,  and  which  did  more 
toward  weakening  the  bonds  that  bound  them  to 
Norton,  than  all  their  past  experience  united.  It 
was  a  manifestation  of  such  heartlessness,  that 
Mr.  Herbert  was  half  ready  to  believe  the  se 
verity  with  which  his  wife  sometimes  expressed 
her  opinions  of  the  constant  neglect  of  their  com 
fort  and  happiness  which  had  characterized  all 


326  FUOil   DAWJf  TO   DAYLIGHT. 

tlieir  transactions,  was  more  justifiable  than  lie  had 
ever  been  willing  to  concede  before.  All  his 
natural  kindness  of  heart  and  readiness  to  throw  a 
broad  mantle  of  charitable  excuses  over  the  faults 
or  mistakes  of  those  with  whom  he  was  associated — 
all  his  true  and  earnest  love  for  the  people  of  his 
charge,  could  furnish  no  cloak  for  carelessness  like 
this.  The  naked  fact  was  brought  before  them  in 
all  its  selfishness,  and  they  were  compelled  to  face 
it.  The  result  could  only  be  a  painful  conviction, 
that  though  their  church  might  value  their  labors 
very  highly,  and  love  them  truly,  yet,  they  re 
ceived  this  labor  as  a  natural  right,  and  felt  under 
no  obligation  to  return  any  equivalent  for  health 
destroyed,  and  labor  bestowed  in  their  service. 

The  past  year  had,  for  various  reasons,  been 
more  expensive  than  any  previous  one,  and  Mr. 
Herbert's  labor  more  poorly  compensated.  Bills 
had  accumulated,  which  could  remain  unpaid  no 
longer,  and  yet,  how  were  they  to  procure  the 
money  to  settle  them,  if  they  could  not  first  obtain 
that  which  was  so  justly  theirs,  and  for  which  they 
had  so  faithfully  labored  ? 

The  time  for  prompt  and  decided  action  had 
come  The  evil  they  had  so  «nuch  dreaded,  was 


DELIBEEATIONB.  327 

now  right  in  their  path,  and  from  it  there  was  no 
way  of  escape.  Any  further  attempt  to  trust  to 
the  promised  support  of  their  Norton  friends, 
would  only  end  in  involving  them  so  that  they 
could  not  pay  those  who  had  trusted  to  their  honor. 
If  they  broke  the  ties  uniting  them  to  this  church 
now,  although  they  must  go  out  from  among  them 
penniless,  yet  they  could  feel  that  they  left  none 
behind  who  would  pecuniarily  suffer  through  them. 
They  had  had  some  little  assistance  from  eastern 
friends  at  various  times,  and  Mr.  Herbert  had 
prudently  invested  it  in  a  garden,  upon  which  he 
was  building  a  small  house.  By  the  sale  of  these, 
they  could  cancel  all  indebtedness;  and  it  might  be, 
that  a  part  of  their  salary,  still  due,  would  be  paid. 

There  were  no  fears  with  regard  to  another  settle 
ment.  They  had  remained  in  Norton  for  love,  not 
money  or  necessity.  ]Sro  three  months  had  elapsed 
without  bringing  most  urgent  invitations  to  remove 
to  churches,  whose  habits  were  more  prompt  and 
liberal  than  in  their  present  position.  Mr.  Herbert 
would  have  chosen  to  spend  his  life  in  western 
labor,  but  his  wife's  health  was  so  broken  by  the 
climate  and  over-exertions  united,  that  her  phy 
sicians  recommended  an  eastern  field.  He  had 


328  FKOH   DAWN   TO   DAYLIGHT. 

had  several  invitations  to  return  East,  and  settle, 
and  the  very  week  that  he  was  taken  ill,  had 
received  a  most  urgent  letter  to  that  effect  from  a 
church  in  a  young  and  flourishing  city  near  to 
their  native  place.  It  had  remained  unanswered 
some  time,  and  a  second  had  followed  it,  more  ear 
nest  than  the  first. 

To  this  he  now  replied,  stating  that  the  health 
of  his  family,  and  other  circumstances,  made  it 
probable,  that  he  should  be  obliged  to  remove 
from  his  present  location,  but,  declining  to  give  a 
definite  answer  for  some  weeks.  His  strong  affec 
tions  clung  to  this  home,  and  almost  unconsciously 
to  himself,  there  was  an  undefined  hope  still 
lingering,  that  something — it  would  be  difficult  to 
say  what — might  yet  enable  them  to  remain. 

Then  followed  some  of  the  good  clergyman's 
most  harassing  and  trying  weeks.  He  was  com 
pelled  to  call  his  people  once  more  together,  and 
lay  before  them  again,  a  statement  of  his  pecu 
niary  embarrassments,  and  assure  them  that  he  no 
longer  felt  that  any  arrangement  could  now  be 
effected,  by  which  it  would  be  safe  for  himself,  or 
honorable  to  others,  for  him  to  remain  with  them 
longer.  Of  course  this  made  a  great  commotion. 


THE   QUESTION    SETTLED.  329 

Most  liberal  resolutions,  and  generous  promises, 
were  offered,  as  once  before,  but  not  now,  as  then, 
followed  by  an  immediate  settlement  of  salary  yet 
unpaid. 

Both  Mr.  Francis  and  Dr.  Leighton,  were  exceed 
ingly  distressed  at  the  prospect  of  their  leaving 
them,  though  Dr.  Leighton  did  not  deny  that  his 
sister  could  no  longer  endure  the  climate  and 
labor  united;  but  felt  that  her  health- might  be 
restored  if  she  could  have  the  means  of  living  less 
laboriously — and  he  gave  these  views  very  fully  at 
the  church-meetings. 

It  was  a  painful  thing  for  Mr.  Herbert  to  think 
of  withdrawing  from  this  field  on  account  of  pecu 
niary  considerations,  merely.  Day  after  day, 
he  asked  himself  if  they  could  not  live  even  more 
closely  than  before — if  it  was  not  wrong  for  a  ser 
vant  of  Him  who  for  our  sakes  became  poor,  and 
had  not  where  to  lay  his  head,  to  leave  that  part 
of  the  vineyard  to  which  his  master  seemed  to 
have  called  him,  for  such  motives  as  these.  The 
question  was  answered  for  him,  in  a  way  that 
enabled  him  to  see  other  and  stronger  reasons  for 
leaving;  and  such  as  left  his  conscience  entirely 
free  from  doubt. 


330  FROM  DAWK  TO   DAYLIGHT. 

Mrs.  Herbert  was  again  attacked  witli  sudden 
and  alarming  illness.  "When,  at  last,  the  imme 
diate  danger  had  passed,  it  left  her  system  in 
a  state  that  compelled  an  entire  change  of  climate, 
as  the  only  hope  of  final  recovery.  Thus,  Mr. 
Herbert  saw  his  course  marked  out  for  him,  and 
had  no  hesitation  in  deciding  to  accept  this  inter 
pretation  of  his  duty. 

It  would  be  some  time  before  he  could  remove 
his  wife  with  safety,  and  he  employed  this  interval 
in  trying  to  secure  the  right  kind  of  a  man  to  fill 
his  place ;  but  soon  saw  that  as  long  as  he  still 
remained  with  them,  the  people  could  see  nothing 
desirable  in  another. 

Meanwhile,  Francis  and  Leighton  were  not  idle, 
but  trying,  by  every  means  in  their  power,  to  secure 
the  full  payment  of  what  was  still  due.  There 
was  110  trouble  in  securing  promises — that  had 
always  been  easy,  but  the  fulfillment  was  as  usual 
in  the  future. 

Mr.  Herbert's  little  house  and  garden  were 
bought  by  a  dear  friend,  and  Mr.  Francis  engaged 
that  it  should  be  made  to  settle  all  demands  that 
could  be  found  against  the  original  owner. 

The  people  did,  at  last,  succeed  in  raising  a  part 


TOO  LATE.  831 

| 

ol  vhat  was  due  their  pastor,  but  not  enough  to 
enable  him  to  move  his  family  east,  and  therefore 
everything  they  had,  but  Mr.  Herbert's  small  library, 
and  their  very  meagre  wardrobe,  was  sold  at  auc 
tion  ;  and  not  till  the  arrangements  were  all  made, 
and  the  sale  notified,  did  their  church  really  wake 
up  to  the  certainty  that  their  pastor  was  in  earnest. 
Then,  indeed,  when  it  was  too  late,  did  they  mani 
fest  a  degree  of  sorrow,  only  equalled  by  their 
former  lethargy.  Every  plea  that  could  be 
imagined  was  brought  forward,  every  offer  made 
to  induce  Mr.  Herbert  to  change  his  mind,  and 
consent  to  remain.  As  the  matter  was  now 
beyond  discussion,  his  love  for  them  was  still  too 
strong  to  allow  of  any  reproaches.  It  would  do  no 
good,  now,  to  tell  them,  that  for  years  they  had  had 
the  power  to  retain  him  on  their  own  hands,  and  it 
was  their  indolence  and  inefficiency  which  had 
broken  the  bonds  which  bound  them  together. 
He  knew  that  they  loved  him,  but  he  also  knew 
that  their  promises  were  written  on  the  sand.  No 
kindness  or  liberality  could  now  restore  his  wife  to 
health  or  strength  while  there.  It  was  all  too  late 
for  severity  or  rebuke,  and  his  heart  prompted 
him  to  speak  only  of  his  wife's  health,  and  leave 


332  FEOM  DAWN   TO  DAYLIGHT. 

* 

it  with  their  consciences  to  tell  them  if  there  were 
not  other  very  important  reasons  back  of  that,  and 
which  were  also  the  cause  of  her  illness,  that  had 
really  sent  him  from  among  them. 

Mrs.  Herbert's  first  effort  was  to  write  home; 
and  we  close  with  the  letter  to  her  mother : 

"  NORTON,  Dec.  — ,  18—. 
"  MY  DEAKEST  MOTHER  : 

"  Your  last  letter  has  remained  too  long  un 
answered,  but  I  have  two  very  good  reasons,  which 
I  know  will  free  me  from  any  appearance  of  neg 
lect.  First,  I  have  been  very  ill,  and  for  many 
days  doubted  if  I  should  recover ;  and  secondly,  we 
have  for  some  time  felt  the  necessity  of  chang 
ing  our  present  location.  My  illness  has  compelled 
us  to  a  decision,  which  has  for  a  long  time  been 
expected. 

"  You  will  be  surprised  to  learn  that  we  are  to 
leave  Norton,  as  soon  as  I  am  able  to  travel ;  and, 
if  life  be  spared,  shall  hope  to  be  with  you,  darling 
mother!  once  more,  in  a  few  weeks.  Oh,  my 
mother,  it  stops  my  breath  to  think  of  it !  After  so 
many  years  of  separation,  shall  I  indeed  once  more 
lay  my  head  on  your  bosom — once  more  see  the 


WHAT   CHANGES  I  333 

dear  old  home  ?  But  ah !  what  changes  since  last  I 
stood  beneath  its  shelter ! 

"  It  will  be  a  sad  return.  After  all,  I  have  never 
half  realized  that  father  is  no  longer  there.  'When 
ever  I  think  of  '  Hill  Farm,'  my  mind  instinctively 
rests  upon  him,  as  the  energetic  and  vigorous  head. 
Being  absent  myself,  his  death  has  always  seemed 
like  a  painful  dream ;  and  now,  for  the  first  time, 
it  begins  to  feel  like  a  sad  reality. 

"  And  I,  too,  have  changed,  my  mother.  Do  not 
expect  to  see  the  rosy,  healthy,  merry  daughter 
from  whom  you  parted.  Sickness,  hard  labor,  and 
bereavements  have  followed  one  another  very 
rapidly  for  the  last  few  years,  and  have  made  me 
old  before  my  time.  You  will  hardly  know  me, 
mother. 

"  But  I  forget  that  all  this  time  I  am  keeping 
you  in  ignorance  of  the  causes  which  have  made 
it  advisable  for  us  to  leave  our  people  here,  and 
find  a  home  elsewhere. 

"  As  you  will  have  suspected  from  our  letters, 
since  we  came  to  Norton,  our  healths  have  suffered 
greatly  from  the  effects  of  the  climate.  I  do 
not  think,  however,  that  the  climate  should  bear 
all  the  blame.  It  is  no  doubt  very  trying,  and  I 


334:  FF.OM   DAWN   TO   DAYLIGHT. 

do  not  believe  there  are  many,  in  the  easiest  cir 
cumstances,  that  can  remain  here  for  any  length  of 
time,  and  not  be  affected  in  some  degree  by  it. 
But  added  to  this,  we  have  been  fitted  for  ready 
victims  to  the  unhealthy  influences  by  poor 
pay,  and  consequently  over-work.  It  was  hard 
enough  when  we  lived  in  Glenville ;  but  our  church 
there  was  not  culpable.  They,  most  truly,  did  all 
they  could,  and  the  place  was  really  a  healthy 
one.  Here,  I  regret  to  say,  most  of  the  blame 
must  rest  upon  the  negligence  of  a  people  who  have 
ever,  I  doubt  not,  loved  us  truly,  but  could  never 
realize  that  a  devoted  minister,  such  as  my  dear 
husband  has  been,  was  worthy  of  at  least  a  com 
fortable  support ;  and  having  given  them  his  whole 
time,  strength  and  thought,  such  support  was  only 
justice,  not  charity.  But  if  their  hearts  have  ever 
told  them  their  duty,  their  practice  has  been 
entirely  different.  The  sum  they  first  pledged  was 
only  barely  sufficient  for  our  absolute  necessities, 
used  with  strict  economy,  but  with  that  we  should 
have  been  well  content — for  we  have  never  asked 
for  luxuries — and  are,  and  have  ever  been,  willing 
to  work  hard,  and  live  in  the  most  primitive  man 
ner.  But  no  one  year  have  they  ever  paid  us  fully, 


FAIR   PROMISES.  335 

and  the  little  we  have  received  has  been  by  con 
stant  solicitation.  Still  we  loved  our  people  with 
an  affection  not  easily  chilled,  and  because  we 
have  thus  loved  them,  we  have  submitted  to  the 
humiliation  of  buying  that  which  we  must  have 
on  credit,  and  securing  the  means  to  pay  our  own 
debts,  by  dunning  our  people  for  our  just  dues ;  or 
when  our  creditors  would  not  receive  the  promises, 
that  our  demands  obtained,  as  contentedly  as  if  they 
were  good  gold,  we  have  tried  hard  to  meet  their 
reasonable  calls  by  the  little  I  could  gain  by 
my  needle,  or  by  the  increased  labors  of  tak 
ing  gentlemen  to  board,  or  the  produce  of  our 
garden. 

"  This  will  seem  a  very  strange,  if  not  wholly 
improbable  statement,  to  an  eastern  mind,  and  my 
mother  will  ask,  c  "Why  did  you  not  leave  at  once, 
when  you  found  that  they  considered  fair  pro 
mises  as  a  proper  equivalent  for  their  pastor's 
labors?' 

"  My  only  answer,  dearest  mother,  must  be,  that 
we  loved  our  church.  "We  could  not  help  it,  little 
as  you  may  think  they  deserved  our  interest ;  and 
besides,  we  felt,  and  still  feel,  sure  that  they  recipro 
cated  our  affection.  They  are  a  very  interesting 


336  FKOM  DAWN   TO   DAYLIGHT. 

and  most  lovable  people,  and  in  most  things  ex 
ceedingly  generous;  but  they  have  never  been 
trained  to  feel  that  a  clergyman's  promised  salary 
was  a  business  transaction,  which  they  were  as 
much  bound  in  honor  to  pay  as  any  other  debt. 

"  "Well,  it  is  all  over  now.  Our  last  year's  salary 
is  still  partly  unpaid,  and  much  as  they  grieve 
at  our  leaving  them,  I  doubt  if  even  now  they 
will  make  it  up,  or  feel  that  their  own  short-comings 
have  really  been  the  main  cause  of  severing  the 
pleasant  ties  which  have  so  long  united  us.  But 
though  we  do  not  yet  see  how,  the  hardships  we 
have  passed  through  will  not  have  been  in  vain. 
"We  feel  that  we  shall  have  been,  in  some  sense, 
pioneers,  to  prepare  the  way  for  other  of  our  brethren 
to  labor  as  successfully,  and  with  less  pecuniary 
hindrances ;  because  the  people  will  have  learned 
that  their  spiritual  teacher  must  have  the  means  of 
comfortable  living,  if  they  would  have  his  labors 
blessed  with  an  abundant  harvest. 

"  George  has  been  solicited  to  come  and  take 
charge  of  the  church,  you  used  to  know  as  Eev. 
Mr.  Holdfast's.  Twice  he  has  declined,  but  the 
third  application  came  when  our  affairs  had 
reached  a  crisis  that  no  longer  admitted  of  tempo- 


MISGIVINGS.  337 

rizing  or  forbearance,  and  added  to  that,  I  was  the 
same  week  taken  ill.  The  physicians  all  agreed 
that  I  ought  no  longer  to  remain  in  this  climate, 
or  risk  the  probability  of  being  obliged  to  exert 
myself  so  much  beyond  my  strength,  as  heretofore. 
Brother  Charles,  greatly  as  he  sorrows  at  the 
thought  of  a  separation,  is  very  decided  as  to  our 
duty  in  this  matter,  and  cousin  Francis  is  just  as 
eccentric  in  his  manifestations  of  kindness  and 
good  will  as  ever. 

"  And  now,  dear  mother,  I  must  draw  this 
long  letter  to  a  close.  Soon,  soon  I  shall  be  with 
you,  I  trust,  and  if  God  prospers  us,  shall  be  living 
near  you.  This  is  all  very  delightful.  But  there 
are  other  thoughts  that  are  sad.  I  never  imagined 
that  the  idea  of  a  return  to  you,  my  mother,  could 
be  anything  but  unmixed  joy.  But  here,  if  I  have 
suffered  much,  I  have  enjoyed  much.  I  love,  very 
dearly,  many  here.  Our  labors  and  deprivations 
have  brought  George  and  myself  together,  as  we 
never  could  have  been,  in  a*  more  prosperous,  and 
comfortable  settlement;  and  I  dread,  lest  the 
larger  field,  and  an  entirely  different  class  of  duties 
for  both,  may  naturally  tend  to  separate  us,  or 

so  divide  our  duties  that  we  shall  be  less  together 

15 


338  FROM  DAWN   TO   DAYLIGHT. 

I  exceedingly  shrink  from  associations  which  wil 
require  a  more  formal  etiquette,  and  will  almost 
compel  a  less  primitive  style  of  living.  I  have  a 
most  inveterate  dislike  to  city  life  and  all  its  pecu 
liarities,  and  would  rather  stay  here  and  work  till 
I  die,  than  have  George  -become  like  many  city 
clergymen,  whom  I  have  had  many  opportunities 
of  observing.  And  then  there  are  some  little  green 
graves  that  I  can  never  look  upon  again  if  I  go 
away ;  but  of  these  I  may  not  speak,  I  am  weak, 
yet,  and  it  unnerves  me.  I  will  close  now,  and 
what  else  is  to  be  told,  my  beloved  mother  must 
hear  from  the  lips  of  her  loving 

"  J&AKY." 

And  now,  having  followed  our  friends  to  the 
close  of  their  western  life,  we  will  leave  them  for 
the  present.  A  new  path  lies  before — and  what 
ever  of  care  or  trial  may  be  hidden  in  it,  for  them, 
it  will,  most  probably,  be  of  a  totally  different 
nature.  Some  future  day  we  may  feel  inclined  to 
give  our  readers  an  opportunity  to  compare  the 
past  with  the  life  upon  which  they  enter  as  we  bid 
them  farewell. 

We  will  offer  no  apologies  for  the  minutenes  of 


FAREWELL.  339 

detail  which  may  have  made  this  narrative  tedious. 
A  simple  western  home  history  was  all  that  we 
promised,  and  abiding  by  the  truth,  we  have  made 
no  attempt  at  sentiment,  or  display. 


THE    END, 


tfc  jadwn's 


DERBY  &  JACKSON'S 

STANDAED  BRITISH  CLASSICS. 

IN  FIFTEEN  VOLUMES,   COMPRISING: 

BOSWELL'S  JOHNSON,  Four  Volumes. 

ADDISON'S  WORKS,  Six    Volumes. 

GOLDSMITH'S  WORKS,  Four  Volumes. 

FIELDING'S  WORKS,  Four  Volumes. 

SMOLLETT'S  WORKS,  Six    Volumes. 

STERNE'S   WORKS,  Two  Volumes. 

DEAN  SWIFT'S  WORKS,  Six    Volumes. 

JOHNSON'S  WORKS,  Two  Volumes. 

DEFOE'S  WORKS,  Two  Volumes. 

LAMB'S  WORKS,  Five  Volumes. 

HAZLITT'S  WORKS,  Five  Volumes 

LEIGH  HUNT'S   WORKS,  Four  Volumes. 

Pronounced  the  most  valuable  and  handsome  set  of  books  ever  intro 
duced  into  the  American  market.  Put  up  in  two  elegant  cases,  bound  in 
half  calf  antique,  or  half  calf  gilt.  Price  $2  25  per  volume,  or,  per  set, 
$112  50. 

We  also  have  the  same  works,  bound  in  neat  cloth,  for  $1  25  per 
volume  ;  or  sheep,  library  style  for  $1  50  per  vol. 

*#*  Either  or  all  of  the  above  will  be  sent  by  mail,  post-paid,  on 
receipt  of  price. 

W.  II.  TINBON,  Printer  and  Stortotyper,  43  ft  «  Centre  St..  N.  Y. 


&  Jackson's 


LIBRARY  OF  SACRED  CLASSICS, 

PRINTED  FEOM  NEW  AND  BEAUTIFUL  LAHGE  (PICA)  TYPE. 


PROGRESS,  12mo.,$l  f/0 
THE  SAME—  fuU  gilt  sides  and  edges,   ......     1  60 

THE  SAME  —  half  calf  antique,       .......     2  00 

DODDRIDGE'S  RISE  $   PROGRESS,  12mo.,  1  00 

THE  SAME  —  full  gilt  sides  and  edges,   ......     1  50 

THE  SAME  —  half  calf,  antique,      .......     2  00 

BAXTER'S  SAINTS'    REST,  12mo.,       .        .        .    1  00 

THE  SAME  —  full  gilt  sides  and  edges,   ......     1  50 

THE  SAME—  half  calf,  antique,      .......     2  00 


HOJLJT   JLIVIJTG,  12mo.,    .        .        .  1  00 

THE  SAME  —  full  gilt  sides  and  edges,    ......  1  50 

THE  SAME  —  half  calf,  antique,       .......  2  00 

Other  volumes  of  a  similar  character  to  follow, 


John  Sunyan  I  Philip  Doddridge  !  Richard  Baxter  f  Jeremy  Taylor  ! 
"Pilgrim's  Progress,"  " Rise  and  Progress,"  " SainW  Rest,"  and  "Holy  Living." 
What  Authors  !  What  Subjects !  What  Books !  Writers  for  immortality  on  immortal 
subjects,  familiar  to  every  reader  from  early  infancy — household  names  and  words  and 
books  for  our  maturer  years.  They  will  live  forever,  and  do  good  to  all.  Old  and  young 
alike  can  drink  at  this  well,  "pure  and  undented,"  certain  of  refreshing  draughts  o( 
pure  and  wholesome  literature. 

%*  The  above  will  be  sent  by  mail,  post-paid,  on  receipt  of  price. 

W.  H.  TiuaoN,  Frinter  and  Stereotyper,  43  &  45  Centre  St.,  N.Y. 


A  most  interesting  Work. 


THE  RIFLE,  AXE,  AND  SADDLE-BAGS, 

A  VOLUME  OP  LECTURES     • 

BY  REI^T.  WILLIAM:  HEISTRY  MiiLiBTJiRiisr. 

One  neat  volume,  12mo.    Price  $1  00. 

CONTENTS   (IN   PART). 

THE  SYMBOLS  OF  EAKLY  WESTERN  CHARACTER. 
The  Untamed  "Wilderness — Daniel  Boone — The  Female  Captive — The 
Mysterious  Shot — A  Narrow  Escape — A  Backwoods  Marriage — Wedding 
Dinner  and  Dance — Homes  in  the  Wilderness — Justice  in  the  Backwoods 
Preachers  in  the  Wilderness — The  Preacher's  Dormitory — Henry  Beidel- 
man  Bascom — "  Old  Jimmy's  "  Reproofs — The  Pioneer's  Work. 

THE  TRIUMPHS  OF  GENIUS  OVER  BLINDNESS. 

Beauty  and  Effects  of  Light — Eminent  Blind  Men — Remarkable  Sense 
of  Hearing — John  Milton — Premonitions  of  Blindness — Blindness  an  Im 
pediment  to  Oratory — Sympathy  Necessary  to  the  Speaker — The  other 
Senses  Quickened — The  Blind  Man's  Need  is  his  Gain — "  I  am  Old  and 
Blind." 

AN  HOUR'S  TALK  ABOUT  WOMAN. 

The  Moral  Greater  than  the  Intellectual — John  Howard  the  Philanthro 
pist — Ancient  and  Modern  Women — Frivolity  a  Prevailing  Evil — Earnest 
ness  of  Female  Authors — Women  the  Best  Literary  Instructors — Woman's 
Responsibility — The  Power  of  Sympathy — The  Importance  of  Conversa 
tion — Woman  the  True  Reformer. 

EARLY  DISCOVERIES  IN  THE  SOUTHWEST. 

Exploration  of  the  Mississippi-^-Gold  Unsuccessfully  Sought — Collisions 
with  the  Indians — Attack  upon  the  Chickasaws — Historical  Traditions — 
Incidents  of  Forest  Life — Dispersion  of  the  Settlers — Anglo-Saxon  Su 
premacy. 

Address, 

DERBY  &  JACKSON,  PUBLISHERS, 

119  NASSAU  S?REET,  N.  Y. 


|ack«m's  Jpablicaiions. 


THE  WORKS  OF  ANNE  RADCLIFFE, 

T^o  t?oZs.,  wow  ready, 

Comprising  "  The  Mysteries  of  Udolpho,"  and  "  Romance  of  the  Forest  n 
With  steel  portrait.     12mo. 

Price  in  Cloth $2  00 

"         Sheep,  library  style,      .      .      2  50 
"         Half  calf,  gilt  or  antique,    .      4  00 


Like  the  great  painter  with  whom  she  has  been  compared,  Mrs.  Radcliffe  loveu  to 
sport  with  the  romantic  and  terrible— with  the  striking  images  of  the  mountain  forests, 
the  cloud  and  storm,  wild  banditti,  ruined  castles,  half-discovered  glimpses  of  visionary 
shadows  of  the  invisible  world  which  seem  at  times  to  cross  our  path,  and  which  still 
haunt  aud  Ihrill  the  imagination. 


THE  WORKS  OF  JANE  PORTER. 

Two  vote.,  now  ready. 

Comprising  "  The  Scottish  Chiefs,"  and  "  Thaddeus  of  Warsaw."    With 
steel  portrait.      12mo. 

Price  in  Cloth $2  00 

"         Sheep,  lihrary  style,      .      .      2  50 
"         Half  calf,  gilt  or  antique,    .     4  00 


"  '  Thaddeus  of  Warsaw,' '  which  in  our  youth  beguiled  us  of  our  tears,'  is  a  favorite. 
It  is  to  Miss  Porter's  fame  that  she  began  the  system  of  historical  novel-writing,  which 
attained  the  climax  of  its  renown  in  the  hands  of  Sir  Walter  Scott.  And  no  light  praise 
It  is  that  she  has  thus  pioneered  the  way  for  the  greatest  exhibition  of  the  greatest 
genius  of  our  time.  She  may  parody  Bishop  Hall,  and  tell  Sir  Walter  : 

'  I  first  adventured — follow  me  who  list, 
And  be  second  Scottish  novelist.'  " 

Frazer'8  Magazine. 

***  The  above  will  be  sent  by  mail,  post-paid,  on  receipt  of  price. 

*».  ...  ii*Bo»,  rriniar  aui  Sweotyper,  43  4  45  Centre  St.,  N.  Y. 


atii$on's 


THE  WORKS  OF  JANE  AUSTEN, 

Comprising  "Pride  and  Prejudice,"  "Sense  and  Sensibility,"  "Mansfield 
Park,"  "  Northanger  Abbey,"  "Emma,"  and  "Persuasion."  First 
American  Edition,  with  steel  vignettes,  complete  in  4  vols  ,  12mo. 

Price  in  Cloth, $4  00 

"         Sheep,  library  style,    .      .      .500 
"         Half  calf,  gilt  or  antique, .      .    8  00 


Miss  Austen  is  emphatically  the  novelist  of  Home.  The  truth,  spirit,  ease,  and  re 
fined  humor  of  her  style,  have  rarely  been  equalled.  She  will  always  retain  a  leading 
position  in  literature,  as  the  representative  of  the  domestic  school  of  novels,  of  which 
she  was  the  founder,  the  great  charm  of  which  is  truth  and  simplicity ;  and  notwith 
standing  the  brilliant  successes  of  many  recent  imitators,  she  still  remains  undisputed 
mistress  of  this  class  of  composition. 


THE  WORKS  OF  HANNAH  MORE, 

Two  vols.  now  ready. 

Comprising  "Coelebs  in  Search  of  a  Wife,"  her  Tales  and  Allegories. 
With  portrait  on  steel.     12mo. 

Price  in  Cloth, $2  00 

"         Sheep,  library  style,      .      .      .250 
"         Half  calf,  gilt  or  antique,  .       .    4  00 


•How  many  have  thanked  God  for  the  hour  that  first  made  them  acquainted  with 
the  Writings  of  Hannah  More.  She  did,  perhaps,  as  much  real  good  in  her  generation 
as  any  woman  that  ever  held  the  pen.  It  would  be  idle  for  us  to  dwell  here  on  works  so 
well  known.  They  have  established  her  name  as  a  great  moral  writer,  possessing  a 
masterly  command  over  the  resources  of  our  language,  and  devoting  a  keen  wit  and 
a  lively  fancy  to  the  best  and  noblest  of  purposes."— Quarterly  Review. 

*n*  The  above  will  be  sent  by  mail,  post-paid,  on  receipt  of  price* 

"V.  H.  TiNftox,  Printer  and  Stereotyper,  43  A  48  C«ntre  St.,  N.  Y. 


THE    LADY'S   GUIDE 

TO 

PERFECT  GENTILITY 

m  MANNERS,  DRESS,  AND  CONVERSATION, 

IN   THE  FAMILY,  IN  COMPANY,  AT  THE  PIANO  FORTE,  THE  TABLE,  IN   THH 

STREET,  AND   IN  GENTLEMEN'S  SOCIETY.  ' 

ALSO, 

A  USEFUL  INSTRUCTOR  IN  LETTER-WRITING,  TOILET  PREPARATIONS,   FANCY 

NEEDLE-WORK,  MILLINERY,  DRESSMAKING,   CARE  OF  WARDROBE, 

THE  HAIR,   TEETH,   HANDS,   LIPS,   COMPLEXION,  ETC. 

BY  EMILY  THORNWELL, 

AUTHOR  OF  "  THE  YOUNG  LADIES'  OWN  BOOK,"  ETC. 

One  Handsome  12mo.  Volume,  with  Steel  Plate.   Price  75  cents. 

CONTENTS. 

Agreeableness  and  Beauty  of  Person— Requisites  to  Female  Beauty— Pimples  and 
Wrinkles— Choice  Cosmetics  for  Beautifying  the  Skin— Treatment  of  the  Hair— How  to 
Preserve  the  Teeth  Sound  and  White— Choice  Dentifrice— Means  of  securing  a  Beautiful 
Tint  to  the  Lips— Means  of  Improving  the  Appearance  of  the  Hands— Ornamental  effect 
of  neatly  kept  Nails — How  to  have  a  Sweet  Breath — Gentility  and  Refinement — Taste 
with  Regard  to  Manners— Low  and  Vulgar  Associations— Gait  and  Carriage— Gentle 
men's  Attendance — Kind  of  Cards  and  Manner  of  Carrying  them — Length  of  Calls — Re 
ceiving  Visitors  —  Introductions  —  Giving  Invitations — Who  may  be  Invited — Taking 
Leare— Dancing  Occasions— Invitation  to  Sing  or  Play— Conversation  at  the  Table— The 
Ceremony — After  Congratulations :  and  Festivities — Invitations  to  Ride  on  Horseback — 
Polite,  Easy,  and  Graceful  Deportment — Female  Dress — How  to  combine  Elegance,  Style 
and  Economy— Ladies'  Morning  Attire— Street  Dress— Young  Ladies'  Attire— The  Ap 
parel  of  Older  Ladies — Gloves,  Handkerchiefs,  Stockings,  etc. — The  Relation  of  Colow 
Effect  of  Tight  Lacing,  etc. — Cleaning  and  Washing  Dresses — To  Perfume  Linen— To 
Extract  Grease  Spots— To  Prevent  Moths — The  Art  of  Conversing  with  Fluency  and  Pro 
priety — How  to  Treat  Flattery — How  to  Address  Young  Gentlemen — Speaking  of  One's 
Self— Things,  Words,  and  Sayings  to  be  Avoided — Art  of  Correct  and  Elegant  Letter- 
Writing—Useful  Hints  and  Rules  for  Letter- Writers— Style  of  Addressing  Different  Pei  - 
sons — Models  or  Plans  for  Various  Letters — Elegant  Fancy  Needle-work — Bracelets— A 
Pretty  Lace  Collar— Embroidery  in  its  Various  Modes— Stitches  on  Muslin  and  Lace- 
Composition  for  Drawing  Patterns — The  Art  of  Millinery  and  Dressmaking— Effect  of 
Bonnets  on  the  general  appearance— Facts  and  Rules  in  Dressmaking,  etc.  etc.  etc. 

%*  The  above  will  be  sent  by  mail,  post-paid,  on  receipt  of  pjifv* 

W.  H.  TIJJSON  Printer  and  Stereotyper,  43  &  45  Centre  St.,  N.  Y. 


$  Jackson's  ^publications. 


THE   AMERICAN 


GENTLEMAN'S  GUIDE 


TO 

POLITENESS  AND  FASHION  ; 

OR, 

FAMILIAR   LETTERS   TO   HIS  NEPHEWS,  CONTAINING  RULES  OF  ETIQUETTE, 

DIRECTIONS  FOR  THE  FORMATION  OF  CHARACTER,  ETC.  ETC., 

ILLUSTRATED    BY   SKETCHES   DRAWN    FROM    LIFE, 

OF  THE  MEN  AND  MANNERS  OF  OUR  TIMES. 


BY 

One  neat  12mo.    Price  $1  25. 

CONTE  NTS. 

i)RESS.—  Fashion—  Taste  in  Dress—  Example  of  Byron—  Dr.  Johnson  and  the  Siddons— 
Horace  Greeley  —  Example  of  Washington  —  Selections  of  Colors  —  Morning  Costume  — 
Ceremonious  Costume  —  Mode  of  Wearing  the  Hair  and  Beard  —  Collars—  Use  of  Dia 
monds  in  Dress  —  True  Refinement  —  Test  of  High  Breeding  —  Wearing  Gloves  in 
Dancing—  Street  and  Morning  Visits—  The  Mill-Boy  of  the  Slashes—  Anecdotes  Illus 
trative  of  Dress  —  The  Hero  of  the  Bali-Room  —  The  Fashionable  Hat  —  Travelling 
Gloves  of  an  Exquisite  —  Gov.  Marcy  and  the  Parisians  —  Distinctive  Mark  of  a  Gen 
tleman—Details  of  Gentleman's  Dress  —  Wedding  Costume—  Morning  and  Evening 
Dress—  Costume  for  Bachelors  —  Effect  of  Black  Dress  —  Blue  —  Brown. 

MANNERS.  —  Manner  Indicative  of  Character  —  The  Fashionable  Manner  —  Good  Breed 
ing—The  St.  Nicholas  Hotel—  "  Willard's,"  at  Washington  —  Manner  to  Parents- 
Brothers  and  Sisters  —  To  a  Wife  —  The  Sensibility  of  Woman  —  Domestic  Politeness  — 
Proper  Mode  of  Salutation  —  Rule,  when  meeting  a  Gentleman  walking  with  Ladies  — 
Shaking  hands  with  Ladies  —  Courteous  Phrases  —  Parting  Ceremonies  —  Walking  with 
Ladies—  Staring  at  Ladies  —  Ceremonious  Visits—  Character  of  Conversation—  Card  of 
Announcement  —  Drawing-Room  Rules  —  Visitors  taking  leave  —  Offering  the  Arm  — 
Wedding  Receptions—  Leaving  Cards  —  Visits  on  New  Year's  Day  —  Attending  Ladies 
at  Concerts  —  Manner  at  a  Public  Table  —  Driving  with  Ladies  —  Introduction  of  Guests. 

THE  TOILET.—  The  True  Basis  of  Health—  The  Bath—  The  Hair—  The  Teeth—  The  Naila 

—  A  Complete  Wardrobe  —  Riding  and  Driving—  Simple  Tastes  in  Eating  —  Use  of  Wine, 
etc.  —  Amusements  in  the  open  Air  —  Fashionable  Watering  Places. 

LETTER-WRITING.—  Variety  of  Styles—  A  good  Business-hand—  Letters  of  Introduction 

—  Letter  to  a  Lady  of  Fashion—  Introducing  Men  to  Women  —  Evening  Parties—  Let 
ters  of  Recommendation  —  Proper  Style  of  Letters  of  Condolence,  etc.  —  Notes  of 
Invitation  —  Letter-Superscription. 

ACCOMPLISHMENTS.—  Taste  for  Music—  Advantage  of  Dancing,  Riding  and  Driving— 
The  Art  of  Conversation  —  Use  of  Slang  Phrases—  Conversational  Topics  —  Courtesy  to 
Ladies  and  Clergyman—  Quickness  at  Repartee. 

HABIT.—  Fashion  not  always  Good-Breeding—  The  Tie  of  a  Cravat—  Walking,  Standing, 
Sitting  —  Ease  of  Attitude  —  The  Art  of  Carving  —  Helping  Ladies  at  Table  —  Ladiea 
Careful  Observers  —  Proper  Attitude  while  Reading  —  Habits  of  Good-Humor,  etc. 

MENTAL  AND  MORAL  EDUCATION.—  Definition  of  Self-Culture—Reading  for  Amuse 
ment—Fictitious  Literature  —  Knowledge  under  Difficulties—  Learned  Blacksmith- 
Franklin  and  Webster  —  Choice  of  Companions  and  Friends  —  Selection  of  a  Pursuit 
in  Life—  Courtship—  Marriage  —  Housekeeping—  Pecuniary  Matters—  Value  of  Friend 
ship  —The  Merchant  Princes  —  The  Pursuit  of  Wealth—  Advantages  of  Early  Marriage 

—  Friendship  with  a  Married  Lady  —Presents  —  Pernicious  Effects  of  Boarding  —  An 
Old   Man's  Advice—  Cupid  turned  Carrier—  A  True  Woman's  Letter—  Uncle  Hal's 
Farewell. 

%*  The  above  will  be  sent  by  mail,  post-paid,  on  receipt  of  price 


GOOD  AND  POPULAR  BOOKS, 

PUBLISHED  BY  DERBY  &  JACKSON. 

TEN  TEARS  OF  PREACHER  LIFE.    By  Rev.  W.  H.  MILBUBN.    12mo.  $1  09 

RIFLE,  AXE  AND  SADDLEBAGS.         "  "  "  12mo.  1  00 

GREECE  AND  THE  GOLDEN  HORN.    By  Rev.  STEPHEN  OLIN.    12mo.  10ft 

TRA  VELS  IN  EG  YPT  AND  THE  HOL  Y  LAND.    By  STEPHENS.    8vo.  2  00 

CAPTAIN  COOK'S  VOYAGES  ROUND  TUE  WORLD.    12mo 1  00 

PICTORIAL  LIFE  OF  BENJAMIN  FRANKLIN.    Svo 2  00 

RANDALLS  LIFE  OF  THOMAS  JEFFERSON.    8  rols.  Svo T  50 

BUNYAN'S  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS.    12mo 1  00 

BUNYAN'S  HOLY  WAR.    12mo 100 

FOX'S  BOOK  OF  MARTYRS.    12mo 100 

DODDRIDGE'S  RISE  AND  PROGRESS  OF  RELIGION.    12mo....  100 

BAXTER'S  SAINTS'  REST.    12mo 1  00 

TAYLOR'S  HOLY  LIVING.    12mo 1  00 

THE  SCO  TTISJT  CHIEFS.    By  JANE  PORTER.    12mo 1  00 

THADDEUS  OF  WARSAW.        "  "  12mo 100 

ADVENTURES  OF  DON  QUIXOTE.    12mo 100 

ARABIAN  NIGHTS'  ENTERTAINMENTS.    12mo 1  00 

ADVENTURES  OF  ROBINSON  CRUSOE.    12mo 100 

SWISS  FAMILY  ROBINSON.    12mo 1  00 

^SOP'S  FABLES,  with  the  Morals  attached.    12mo 1  00 

VICAR  OF  WAKEFIELD  and  RASSELAS.    (Two  in  one.) 1  00 

PAUL  AND  VIRGINIA  and  EXILES  OF  SIBERIA.    (Two  in  one.) ..  1  00 

RELIGIO  US  CO  UR  TSIIIP  and  ORE  A  T  PL  A  G  UE.    By  DB  FOE 1  00 

C(ELEBS  IN  SEARCH  OF  A  WIFE.    12mo 1  OC 

HANNAH  MORE'S  TALES  AND  ALLEGORIES.    12mo 1  (K 

THO  UGHTS  AND  ESS  A  YS  OF  JOHN  FORSTER.    12mo 1  OC 

THE  ESSA  YS  OF  ELIA.    By  CHARLES  LAMB.    12mo 1  00 

JOHNSON'S  LIVES  OF  THE  POETS.    2  vols.  12mo 2  50 

THE  SPECTA  TOR.    By  JOSEPH  ADDISON.    2  vols.  12mo 2  50 

THE  TA TTLER  AND  GUARDIAN.    By  ADDISON  and  STEELS 2  00 

WIRT'S  LIFE  OF  PATRICK  HENRY.    12mo 100 

SIMMS'  LIFE  OF  GENERAL  MARION.    12mo 1  00 

WA  LKER'S  LIFE  OF  GENERA L  JA  CKSON.    12mo 1  00 

LIFE  AND  CHOICE  WORKS  OF  IS  A  A  C  WA  TTS.    12mo 1  25 

LA  YARD'S  POP  ULAR  DISCO  VERIES  A  T  NINEVEH.    12mo 1  00 

FROST'S  INDIAN  BA  TTLES  AND  CAPTIVITIES.    12mo 1  00 

WORKS  OF  OLIVER  GOLDSMITH.    4  vols.  12mo 5  00 

WORKS  OF  CHARLES  LAMB.    5  vols.  12mo 625 

BOS  WELL'S  LIFE  OF  DR.  JOHNSON.    4  vols.  12mo 5  00 

ROLLIN'S  ANCIENT  HISTORY.    2  vols.  Svo 400 

PL  UTARCH'S  LIVES  OF  THE  ANCIENTS.    Svo 2  00 

Either  of  the  above  sent  by  mail,  post-paid,  on  receipt  of  Price.    A 
Hberal  Discount  to  Preachers  and  Agents.    Address 

DERBY    &    JACKSON, 

119  NASSAU  STREET,  NEW  YORK. 


14  DAY  USE 

RETURN  TO  DESK  FROM  WHICH  BORROWED 

LOAN  DEPT. 

RENEWALS  ONLY— TEL.  NO.  642-3405 

This  book  is  due  on  the  last  date  stamped  below,  or 

on  the  date  to  which  renewed. 
Renewed  books  are  subject  to  immediate  recall. 


STANFORD 

INTER-LIBRARY 

LOAN 

AUG  8     1969 

RECEIVED 

SEP    9  '69  -4PM 

COAN  DEPT, 

•°CT19ifl7?3i 

LD  21A-40m-2,'69 
(J6057slO)476 — A-32 


General  Library 

University  of  California 

Berkeley 


M102444 


THE  UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 


